


Lucky Ones

by Phoebsfan



Category: Alias (TV)
Genre: Angst, F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2003-05-08
Updated: 2003-05-08
Packaged: 2021-03-03 18:40:58
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 25,493
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24670219
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Phoebsfan/pseuds/Phoebsfan
Summary: There's a river in the woods, do you cross it?Choices. We all have them. I chose to follow her. I chose to believe her lies once more. Even when I knew that's what they were.
Relationships: Jack Bristow/Irina Derevko, Sydney Bristow/Julian Sark, Sydney Bristow/Michael Vaughn
Comments: 8





	Lucky Ones

**Author's Note:**

> The ending to the story has been lost in time. At some point I hope to recreate it, but that could be never. In the meantime you can enjoy what there is of it.

_**"...and I'd give my life for yours. I know we are, we are the lucky ones. I know we are, we are the lucky ones. I know we are, we are the lucky ones dear..." Bif Naked- Lucky** _

"Sydney don't be like this."

"Why Mom?" she couldn't control her emotions. She'd never been good like her father. She was broken in more ways then one. She'd lost so much in the last five minutes alone and now her mother wanted more.

She had nothing left to give. They'd taken everything.

Every last fucking part of her was bleeding down her cheeks and now her mother wanted more.

Wanted every last part of her.

"I'm offering you the future." her mother tried again.

Maybe if she pulled out a storybook and offered her some cookies she wouldn't have to ask twice. Because all Sydney wanted to do was put her head in someones lap and cry. Cry all of her lies out into the open where they could stop trying to break her.

A million pieces only held together by her skin, skin that was so easily torn, so easily bruised.

Somewhere along the way she'd shattered. She only wondered when the sharp shards of herself would start to poke through her paper covering.

Bound to the chair she waited as the liquid parts seeped through her eyes, dripped down her chin. Waited for the stinging sharp shards to follow. But they never did.

She wondered if that meant she'd have to keep moving, and breathing, keep fighting these bastards.

Problems. She fixed problems. Right? Why couldn't she think of a way to fix this one?

This was what she'd wanted. To find her mother. To ask her mother.

Now that she was here she found herself waiting to finish the breaking process. Found herself with no questions that her mother could answer.

Her mother couldn't tell her why Vaughn had to die. Her mother couldn't tell her why everyone in her life had to get hurt or killed. Her mother couldn't tell her anything that she wanted or needed an answer to.

And her mother sure as hell couldn't fix her. Though she'd seriously thought of letting her try.

In one of those unclear panic filled moments she'd even considered giving her mother exactly what she wanted just to see if her mother could help with this awful pain.

The sinking and twisting knife in her stomach that just kept wrapping her tighter and tighter around herself until she thought everything would just rip free.

She really did kill everyone she loved.

"Sydney this is your last chance."

The voice was so distant and unimportant.

She knew it was shock, she'd been taught how to deal with it quickly to keep it from impairing her judgment as much. To keep her head clear for planning escape, attack, whatever measure would be necessary. In the past she'd used the techniques she'd been taught.

But as the blood pooled in her hands and her arms went numb. As her tears streamed down her face and her heart went numb. She let shock overtake her.

She just let it all go. To hell with everything.

It would all still be messed up in a few hours. She could deal with it then.

Vaughn would be disappointed. But hell Vaughn was dead so what the fuck did it matter what he would have thought. He certainly wouldn't be thinking it now.

Screw him. Fucking bastard should have spent more time running. He should have kept up.

"I see you need some persuasion. As much as it pains me to do this Sydney I will."

Screw her. What did it matter what she did anyway?

Physical pain would be welcome. Death even better. When it gets to the point where death really is your only ticket to freedom, you know there is no point in living.

Anything she did could only make things better.

"Wake up Sydney." it was accompanied by a hand to the cheek. The sound of the slap echoed off the walls.

Damn woman. Sleep was the only thing that Sydney wanted. She was so tired. Someone should hurt the bitch for trying to keep her awake. She vowed to do just that... later.

"You have two choices. Do exactly as I tell you. Or he dies."

She only heard the part about death. Snapping her head up she saw what her mother had been trying to tell her.

Vaughn slouched in front of her. He was held up by two men. He was bruised and bleeding. And he kept coughing as if he couldn't get all the water out of his lungs.

But all signs indicated that he was still alive.

"What do you want me to do?"

"Join me." Upon seeing him breathing the broken parts of her had magically pulled themselves together again. Upon hearing him cough, looking in his eyes, those parts started to bond themselves together with some unseen cosmic glue.

She was formulating a plan to get out. She was starting to fix the problem.

"No." she even added a smile.

"You did this to him, just remember that." With that Irina, queen of all that is evil, gestured to her goons.

They promptly dropped Vaughn, who fell forward and landed on his face.

They started kicking him. In the head, in the side, anywhere they could. Half drowned and obviously already having suffered through similar treatment he was no match for their furious feet.

"Stop it!" she demanded. Irina only let the goons continue.

She shook her chair, struggled with her bonds. Begged for them to stop. Swore vengeance, used all the colorful adjectives she could think of in as many different languages.

"Let him go. Just let him go." she pleaded. Irina held up a hand for the muscle to stop the beating then turned to her daughter expectantly. "Him for me. He goes and I stay. If you hurt him again the deal is off. He walks out of here and you keep your hands off of him."

She could get out later. But he wouldn't be able to take much more of the beating he was getting. She could smell his blood almost taste it in her mouth and the sick thuds of foot and flesh still rang in her ears.

Irina's smile was sickening. "Good choice."

**Chapter One**

**Rewind. Play. Stop**.

AN: DARK. PAIN. ok don't say I didn't warn you. Seriously you should take me seriously when I say things like that.

_**"...wondering where you have been your lonely voice calls across the starlit coast reaching out to be seen she cries your name. three times again. she cries your name. how long can this love remain? cut beneath the surface screen of what we say and what we see is there truth to be seen. she keeps crying out your name but her scream sounds the same. how fickle fate can be. she cries your name. three times again. she cries your name. how long can this love remain? ... there's a wasteland in your soul the burnt out trees will leave you cold. living out an ideal. she cries your name three times again. she cries your name. how long can this love remain. she cries your name twelve times again. she cries your name. how long can this love remain” She Cries Your Name- Beth Orton** _

It started as I thought it would.

Simple recon missions. Missions like those I'd had with SD-6. Missions to get Rambaldi artifacts.

Vaughn was free and living. I used that excuse for every break in. And it worked for a few years. Remarkably well.

The fact that my mother could have him killed in twenty minutes or less with one phone call did help motivate me. Some kinda pizza delivery slogan. Twenty minutes or less. Except pizza was not what would be delivered.

Especially after the last night we'd spent together.

I guess I'd been naive. I guess I really should have known better. But in all honesty, I never imagined the scope of my mother's operations.

I'd known it was extensive, I'd know it had to be stopped. But I had yet to realize what stopping it would entail.

In the beginning I'd planned sabotage and escape. My mother had foreseen it. My mother had set me straight with a few words.

She knew where everyone lived, Francie, Will, Vaughn, Dixon, my father, even my lit teacher.

She made it very clear what not cooperating would result in. Very clear in a very messy way.

So I'd given in. Blinded myself to what I was doing. All the crimes I was committing. All the lives I was ruining or ending.

Assassination came into play two or three years after I'd been recruited. I don't remember exactly when, just as I don't remember exactly how many people have died at my hands. Figuratively and literally.

I was the one to take down SD-6. My mother had given me that. Told me it was my job, my territory, my revenge.

They'd brought me into this life.

I killed Sloane myself. I killed Dixon. I killed Marshall. I killed myself.

By that time I was too deeply rooted in something... a darkness I couldn't even begin to understand.

So after all Vaughn had told me...

I did become my mother.

Choices. We all have them. I chose to follow her. I chose to believe her lies once more. Even when I knew that's what they were.

I tell myself that it was for a noble cause. That I was saving lives.

But I know that I could have stopped. Could have held back.

I could have stayed on the right side of the line instead of crossing it.

There is a river in the woods, do you cross it?

Do you cross it?

Yes, I fucking crossed it. Next question.

I wonder if Rambaldi foresaw this mother/daughter team up. I'm beginning to wonder if maybe he was talking about me. Screw Mt. Seibaco.

So I've been with the organization for eleven years, SD-6 has been gone for five of those years, and Sydney Bristow has been gone for at least eight of them.

I know that I can never hope to be forgiven for any of it. Ever. And as I stand in front of a mirror in another rat hole of a hotel looking at my choppy blue hair, (haven't changed the color since that night for some odd reason, gone to lengths to keep it the same) my tired brown eyes, my scarred face, and my broken life I wish once more for death.

Suicide. My choice was suicide.

If I only had the guts to make that analogy a reality.

I light another cigarette and puff away, lung cancer seems like a good way to die. When I started smoking five years ago I didn't realize it was an unconscious attempt at ending it. I do now. Sometimes I smoke two at a time and hope for an increased effect.

I have the worst luck though. Still no cancer. Fucking waste.

I sit on the edge of my bed and remove the cigarette from my mouth and burn a hole in the fishnet stockings covering my thigh. The stench of burning flesh fills the room and a cold bitter tear rolls down my cheek in response.

I finish the damn thing off and grind the butt into the ashtray with a vengeance. Then I pick the ashtray up and chuck it at the mirror.

The room still reeks of aftershave and sex.

I pull out the tape recorder and play the tape over and over again. Rewind, play, stop. Rewind, play, stop.

REWIND.

PLAY.

STOP.

The information she needs is mixed in with the moans. I never thought I'd give myself for secrets. But I've been doing it for years now.

I think it should be easy by now.

It's not.

REWIND.

PLAY.

STOP.

I've committed the thing to memory. I'd committed it to memory long ago. The tape is simply for my comfort.

It calms me.

I curl into a ball on the bed. The one that is still made, the one we didn't use. My back to the waste.

Rewind. Play. Stop.

Secrets, lies, death.

I'd choose differently. But you can't just rewind, play, stop. You have to live with your rewindplaystop choices. And I rewindplaystop chose stupidly.

I'm crying. I don't know why. But dark streaks are mixing with the blood that has dried under my nose.

Sex and violence. They like to mix them.

Rewind, Play, Stop.

Stop.

Stop.

Vaughn. Rewind. Vaughn. Play. Vaughn. Stop.

It's a common mantra.

I'm so sorry. so sorry. sosorrysosorrysosorry.

The phone rings.

"Yes."

"It's done then?"

"Yes." I wipe at my face; blood and mascara come away but the sins still stick.

"Someone is coming to get you." The other end clicks. I hang the phone up.

Cold Bitch. Cold Bitch. Damn, fucking, cold bitch. I'm looking in the mirror again. I shouldn't have done that.

I'm a fucking mess.

I grab the sheet and wipe the mascara and blood from my face, the sheets are already bloody anyway. What's more going to do?

Besides The Man will have those sheets burned. Blood is traceable.

I hug my arms around my thin frame. My stomach is protesting, telling me it needs food. I don't remember when I ate last. Must have been a day or two. I should eat something.

I locate my purse, my skanky little purse that matches with my whore clothes. My barely there skirt, my mesh shirt.

I open the prostitute bag and look for something to eat.

Certs. Well my breath can feel clean at least.

I chomp down on one and find it's stale. Figures. I continue to search my bag and find the small red pill.

The one I'm supposed to take if things go sour.

Things went sour eleven years ago. I wonder where the damn thing was then.

I take it out of the bag, out of it's case, and place it by my nose.

I have this weird obsession with smelling things. It's developed over the years with my mother. I think it first started that night with Vaughn. I'm always comparing things to his scent for some reason.

Men, places, objects... I sniff it all. Of course in these later years my senses have been clogged with cigarette smoke but I still keep with the habit.

The pill has no scent so I invent one for it. It smells like the ocean. Calm, gentle, peaceful. It smells like freedom. Heady, wild, rash.

I place it on my tongue. It has no taste. I'm tired of the game and I don't want to invent a taste for it. I want to swallow it and lie down on the bed.

How did I get here?

My ride is here. I heard them pull up. I take the pill out of my mouth and throw it in the trash.

I don't think I should be carrying it around anymore.

I light another cigarette and slip out the window, my skirt rides high and the man waiting in the van gets a good show. Not that he hasn't already seen it. I think I was the one that recruited him.

"Angel?' he asks. I nod and he unlocks the door of the van. I get in and slam the door behind me.

"She's out." he speaks into a radio as I sit on a bench lining the wall of the vehicle.

I can see the flames lick the bedding, the ceiling, dancing, dancing with the smell of sex, with the mirror and the bloody sheets. Burning.

The night, the man, the memories... I'm supposed to leave them in that room to burn.

But I haven't gotten the hang of that yet.

Chapter Two

Focused

**"...I could not foresee this thing happening to you. If I look hard enough into the setting sun, my love will laugh with me before the morning comes..." Vanessa Carlton- Paint it Black**

"She killed again didn't she?" I ask, knowing the answer. Knowing that it was only a matter of time.

Weiss only nods and hands me the file.

The pictures are all too clear. She is never clean when she kills anymore. Never ordered or precise. She mutilates she doesn't just kill.

I should be sickened by it. I should want to run from the room like some of the other agents do. But I don't.

Sydney Bristow is my job. The only job I've ever had or wanted.

Maybe I'm naive but I'm still hunting her, wanting to save her.

She's crossed so many lines that it's not possible for me to save her now. I know this. But I still hope it's not her choice.

I still hope there are extenuating circumstances. A way I can talk her out of trouble.

She saved my life, gave me the best night of my life, then sent me away. I can still feel her on me, taste her, smell her.

At night she still takes me hostage with dreams.

I can't give up on her. Can't give up hope.

With each manila envelope full of graphic details, with all Weiss' talk about attachments, with all the threats of suspension. I just can't drop it.

Obsessed, that's what Weiss calls it. Focused is more like it.

Focused on finding her. Saving her. Loving her.

I eat, drink, and sleep Sydney Bristow. I'll admit that the last eleven years of my life have been dedicated to getting her out of the hell she walked into. But she'd do the same.

She did the same.

It's my turn.

I still remember her whispered words.

_"I'll be back before you know it."_

I may be blind in some areas that concern her, but eleven years is longer then I'd expected. And I noticed it quite a while ago.

I push the graphic pictures to the side and start to read details, facts, leads.

Palm Springs. He was a wealthy business man, she slept with him before she killed him. Used a piece of the broken mirror. She tortured him before she killed him. He was cuffed to the bed. He struggled. Her blood was also present. And no small amount of it either.

Her hair is still blue. I wonder why she's kept it blue. I can only guess at the reasons.

She smokes now, doesn't care to clean up her mess either. Like she wants to be found.

Her trails are obvious. Mommy always sweeps down and takes her back, saves her. Police have had her in custody numerous times but mommy always gets to her.

Four years ago I was on my way to Paris, they'd taken her into custody. I was an hour, a fucking hour away, when she was busted out.

Weiss has asked me what I plan on doing when I find her. I tell him I don't know, because honestly I have no clue. I don't even know if I'll recognize her anymore. She is so far from what she was.

Sighing, I push the folder away. Rub my eyes and stretch. I take a sip of my ice cold coffee, spit it back in the mug. Look at my watch. Four in the morning, I've been here three days straight now.

Devlin is going to kick my ass I'm sure. More suspension threats will be tossed around tomorrow. But he can't afford to lose me. I'm the only one of them that knew her well enough to guess at her next move. I'm an asset.

I pull the folders back to me. In the last eight years she's killed at least eleven men. She didn't used to be as sloppy. In fact the first six were almost impossible to connect to her.

The first six were clean, ordered, and precise. Planned.

It's the last five that have me worried. Each is messier then the last. I'm worried that next time we'll find her there still. I'm worried that we'll be bringing her back in a body bag instead of handcuffs.

I run my hands through my hair, squint in the dim lamplight.

Palm Springs, Columbia, London, Morocco, Maui, Taiwan... and more.

There was no pattern. No way to predict where she'd be next. Before she'd taken down SD-6, Jack had been able to clue us in on her movements. And though the CIA has and continues to follow Khausinau... it isn't the same.

And no matter what she does I can't stop loving her.

The photos and crime scene tape, the blood and violence, the thickening files... After all of them, I still love her. And I wonder what has driven her to this.

Who has hurt her so badly... who has killed that women I moronically let go so many years ago?

She's breaking. I see it in her every move. She's desperately trying to keep control but she's losing it.

I need to find her, and quickly.

**Chapter Three**

**Paradise**

_**"Once upon a year gone by, she saw herself give in. Every time she closed her eyes, she saw what could have been. Well nothing hurts and nothing bleeds when covers tucked in tight. Funny when the bottom drops, how she forgets to fight... to fight. And it's one more day in paradise. One more day in paradise. As darkness quickly steals the light that shined within her eyes. She slowly swallows all her fear and soothes her mind with lies. Well all she wants and all she needs are reasons to survive. A day in which the sun will take her artificial light...her light..." Vanessa Carlton- Paradise** _

The sun beats down on me, burning, scorching my already tanned skin.

I slipped up in Palm Springs.

Sometimes I do that. Slip up that is.

It was self defense, or at least it started out that way.

Sometimes I take some thing to help me forget where I am, it helps with some of the men I have to... deal with. (Sleep with.)

He started hurting me and I flipped. If I hadn't been so out of it I would have kept control, at least that's what I'd like to think.

I only did to him what he was doing to me.

Mom understood. She always does. And she helps me out every time.

Then she takes me here to this sunny get away in Ecuador. She's got places like it all over the world. But this one is my favorite.

I don't know why, but I think it has to do with the sun. I like to sit out in it and see if I can fry the rest of my brain away.

No luck yet.

She usually keeps me here for a month or so after every, 'incident.' Ha. Incident my ass.

I fucking killed the bastard. I slashed his stomach, stabbed him repeatedly with a piece of the mirror he'd thrown me into. Then I'd mutilated the bastard.

Reveled in the kill.

Scared the hell out of myself. At what I've become.

I light another cigarette, take a few puffs and put it out on my thigh. I light another, puff, puff, puff, put it out on my forearm.

Let the artificial tears run down my cheeks. A natural reaction to physical pain. They don't mean anything.

"Sydney, baby why don't you go lay down." Now she's supportive. Next month when I screw up and don't get her the artifact she'll turn back into The Man and I'll be sorry I screwed up. Sorry I didn't try harder to get what she wanted, desired, needed...

Bitch. Fuck her.

"I am laying down." I was. She doesn't like how I sit facing the beach. She doesn't like my fascination with the water. Doesn't like how it soothes me.

I don't know why.

It's only the ocean though. Showers, bathtubs, swimming pools, hallways full of water, I avoid them like the plague. Hygiene really sucks, I've learned to shower really fast.

It wasn't so bad before, but since I cracked that first time, anything can send me into an interesting but worthless lump of ex-humanity.

"I need your help."

Not another tape mission. Not another hotel room. Anything but. Anything but that. Please.

"I need you to get some information." My heart continues to plunge and I light another cigarette and start to puff.

"Like recon. Like cloak and dagger." I sound childish. I know she doesn't want me to go spying. She wants me to go whoring.

"You'll meet him in Las Vegas... at a hotel." I finish the cigarette before answering, putting it out on my leg once more. Ashtrays are fucking useless. I think back on when I cut, I might pick that up again. Don't really know. It had it's uses.

"I wish you wouldn't do that."

I give her a strange look. I honestly don't know what she is talking about.

"Do what?"

She only shakes her head and walks away. I disappoint her.

She thought I was stronger I guess.

Oh well. Not my problem.

I stand up and follow her back to the house for the rest of the information.

\-----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

"The meeting has already been set up."

I argue with Devlin. Have been arguing with him for a good twenty minutes.

"You're too attached Vaughn. We're sending someone else." Sending someone else my ass. I've spent the last eleven fucking years chasing after her.

"She's my case. My responsibility. I will go." I say calmly and sternly. Making my point hopefully. He shakes his head no.

Fuck this.

"I'm going with or without your permission... _sir."_ It's slightly acidic, but hell, he deserves it trying to pull one over on me like that. I turn and start toward the door.

"You're job won't be waiting for you when you get back."

"Fine." I know he's bluffing. But even if he wasn't I wouldn't give a damn.

"Fine. Go. Save her. Save a few stray puppies on the way. What do I care?"

"Thank you. I'll bring you back a puppy." I smile and head for my car. I've got a plane to catch and there is no way in hell I'm missing it.

\---------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

I look at the number on the door, 411. Yup that's the one.

Leather shorts, fishnet stockings, thigh high boots, and some frilly top that barely covered my breasts. I looked like I'd just walked out of some strip club.

I opened my handbag, pressed record on the tape player, and pulled out my blood red lip color. Pulling out the mirror, I put more on.

Guys willing to sell information for sex liked that red color, not to mention other things.

My black eye is still showing and I dab more concealer on it. When this is over I'm going back to Ecuador for a month. I still hurt from last time.

I'm stalling. I always do that.

I should be used to this. I don't know why I still stall.

I hope this one isn't as violent as the others have been. I have some 'candy' in my bag in case I chicken out again but I'm afraid to use it. I can't kill another man, not this soon. Not like the last time.

I can still taste his blood and my stomach drops just thinking about it.

I fluff my blue choppy hair, play with my dog collar. It's now or never. And never isn't an option.

I knock, timidly, not the strong knock he was expecting I'm sure. And if he was like any of the others, he'd be turned on by my inferior behavior. God it made me sick.

The door opened quickly.

I couldn't see the person who opened it, which automatically made me suspicious. But I walked in anyway. It closed behind me and two hands came down on my waist.

"The document is in a church in Spain." He pushed me toward the bed undoing my shorts in the process.

"And?" I ask coldly.

"That's all I know."

Figured.

He bit my neck and I stiffened. Bastard. How come I always got stuck with all the domineering, pain inducing sex fiends? Why couldn't the guy ever just like it soft and gentle? Why did some sort of torture or pain always have to be involved?

I was so fucking sick of it.

I jabbed an elbow in his stomach and threw him onto the bed.

"I'm not in the mood."

"I suggest you get there."

God he was ugly. And as it turned out much stronger.

Rape is nothing new to me now. And I guess technically it wasn't rape, I mean I did come here with the intention of sleeping with him.

Long after he's gone I'm sitting in bed puffing away. Burning and cutting. (I ended up bringing my own blade just for the occasion)

My lip was bleeding from where he'd bit me, my back was a mess from his sharp nails (they'd needed to be cut and they had gunk under them that turned my stomach. Probably hadn't cleaned out from under them in the last decade.) I was bleeding onto the sheets, but I really didn't care.

I pulled the tape recorder from the bag and relived the thirty minutes of hell. Relived them again and again.

Cried too loud there, he hadn't liked it, resulted in a nasty bruise on my left cheek. I'll have to remember that for next time. But then he'd liked giving me the bruise so maybe it was a good thing.

My shirt was ripped. I have no idea how I'm getting out of here unless it's half naked and sure this is Vegas, but I still think exposure laws apply.

I sigh and lay back on the bed. White on red. Red on white. I wonder how many suicides this hotel deals with every year.

The phone rings. Extraction.

"Is it finished?"

"Yes."

"Get dressed. Go to room 628. You know what to do."

No I don't. This was not standard procedure.

"Excuse me?"

"He's waiting." What the fuck? Ok sure, I do this occasionally, lately more often than not, but I am not a fucking prostitute.

"What, is there some fucking intelligence convention or something?" I demand flinging the sheets to the side and picking up my clothes.

"You don't have a choice."

Click.

Sure.

Fucking bastard.

I always have a choice.

Yeah, kill those I love, loved... hell who knows anymore. Or do what they say.

God I hate my life. Kill me now. Please.

I end up having to hold my shirt together.

He'd better not be like the last guy or I'm not going to hesitate to hurl all over him.

**Chapter Four**

**Broken**

_**"...and I know that things can't last forever. But there are lessons that you'll never learn. Oh just the scent of you, it makes me hurt. So how's it you that makes me better.." Vanessa Carlton- Pretty Baby** _

There is a knock at the door and I'm more than nervous. This is it. This is Sydney walking back into my life. I hate the cloak and dagger shit and I hate that she's prostituting herself.

Hate that it's my fault she's still here. That I couldn't get her out.

I hate that so much. If I ever see her mother again... I'll have more then enough reasons to kill her on the spot.

Oh God Sydney is on the other side of that door.

I open the door.

She's looking down, away, anywhere but at me. The room is flooded with darkness. I wanted to get her into the room before she could run.

I didn't have to ask, she walked right in, let go of her shirt and I watched in more than awe, stupefied, transfixed, and breathless as it fell around her shoulders and exposed her upper back to me.

I couldn't breathe, let alone speak.

\--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

His room was dark and it smelled wonderful, none of that cheap, smothering, perfumed cologne for him. God he smelled heavenly.

Here's hoping he isn't ugly.

He doesn't say anything. Which is odd. Usually they speak first.

I still haven't gotten the courage to look at him.

"Look I'm not sleeping with you until you tell me what you have." I sighed. Wonderfully smelling or not, I just want this over with.

He's moved behind me and he's breathing down my neck. His hands are on my bare shoulders. My shirt has fallen around my waist, fell quite awhile ago actually.

His hands move south and I'm about ready to kick the shit out of him. I don't like that he's not playing by the rules. But his hands feel like Vaughn's did. He's actually turning me on.

And making me homesick and confused. Wishing it really were him. Wishing that he had finally come to take me away. But my life is anything but fairytale.

Vaughn will never come and rescue me. He couldn't even if he tried.

He can't save me from myself.

He surprises me. He isn't reaching to undo anything. He's reaching for the scrap that is my shirt and he's pulling it up, covering me.

Am I dreaming or something or did I actually get a decent guy?

I must be dreaming because decent and this situation don't go together well.

I feel his lips on my shoulder.

"Sydney..." Oh my hell. I'm hallucinating cause that was Vaughn's voice.

I start to turn my head, but he doesn't let me. He places his hands gently on my face and makes me face front.

"I didn't want this to happen like this. But you've got to stop it Syd."

It is Vaughn.

My hands let go of my shirt again to reach for his but he stops me and puts my shirt back into my hands.

Frustrating man. It's not like he hasn't seen me in all my glory before.

"I won't let you do this anymore." His voice cracks and I crack. I sink into his hands, the ones that are playing with my hair. I sink into his arms the ones that are holding me.

"Vau..." my voice cracks, it's dry and scratchy and foreign. I try again. "Vaughn." he squeezes me and I cry out as pain shoots through my sore body.

"Sydney..." He mumbles into my hair.

"Take me away." He walks me over to his suitcase and keeps me in his arms as he pulls out a t-shirt. He helps me out of my shirt and into his without letting me turn and face him.

The cotton is soft against my skin. I pull the shirt up and smell it. The collar rests on my nose as my hands wrap with his. Over and over again our fingers lock and unlock. The shirt slips back into place and he lets go of one of my hands to close the suitcase.

He grabs it and then he walks me to the door, opens it, and pushes me into the brightly lit hallway. The whole way down the hall he keeps some kind of contact with me. As if he's afraid I'm going to run.

In all honesty I'm not sure why he hasn't cuffed me yet. Why he hasn't read me my rights?

In the elevator he presses the button to take us to the lobby, reaches over me to press the button. He will not let me look at him. I need to see him.

I start to turn and he moves with me. I'm so tired of games.

"Vaughn." I cry out and stomp. I'm tired, hurt, and I feel like I'm going to explode if I don't get to see his face.

"Wait." He commands and traces a finger down my cheek.

He'd better hurry. I'm not making him any promises after this.

\----------------------------------------------------------------------

She's flawed. Priceless but flawed.

I'd known this coming in. I just hadn't expected her to be so broken. In the back of my mind I knew she would be. But getting my head and my heart to listen to each other these days is like asking a predator to stop stalking prey, it just doesn't work.

She struggles to look at me all through our exchange.

I'd let her but then she'd see my worry, my fears, the feelings I've so clearly displayed on my face.

I need to get a grip on myself before she sees me.

She doesn't need to see how hurt I am from the bloody claw marks on her back. The scars on her arms, back, chest, stomach. She's so scarred.

Cigarette burns, cuts... I wonder how many are self-inflicted and I cringe when I'm far enough away that she can't feel it.

She's a shell. Her mother has sucked all the life out of her.

She looks and acts like any broken girl on the corner, like hope is a feeling she's never had in her life. And it breaks my heart a million times over.

I never should have let her trade her life for mine.

This is why she is not allowed to look at me.

I need time to compose myself. I pull her closer, flat against my chest. I breath in her scent.

Cheap perfume. Not the same as before. Not the light airy strawberry scent she used to carry.

Her skin isn't soft and smooth. It's rough, jagged, hard and brittle. Yet it's leathery as well. I fear cutting myself on her. She's so sharp and angular.

I kiss her cheek, let my tongue dart out just a bit, so I can taste her as well. She presses herself tighter against me in response.

She used to taste of salt and tears and ocean. Of honey and rain and love.

Now she tastes bitter, of cigarette smoke, of bile, and sour milk.

The elevator arrives in the lobby and I push her out into it. She reaches behind her and grabs my hand.

We walk, I shadow her, she cowers into me.

Her hand is calloused sandpaper. I give it a squeeze and she answers back.

The night air bites into us and I remove my leather trench coat and put it on her. I'm freezing my ass off but she's fine, content... That's all that matters.

We reach my car and I unlock the door from my position behind her. I open it and shove her gently toward the gaping hole that is awaiting her. She hesitates.

"It's ok." I prod and she gets in. I slam her door and quickly move to the back of the vehicle popping the trunk and placing my suitcase in the back.

I stand there for what seems like forever. Run my hands through my hair, rub my eyes, sigh.

Now what? I'd only planned on getting her into the car. I honestly didn't think I'd get her that far.

After an insanely long amount of time I walked around to the front and joined her in the car.

She stared at me. Took me in and I kept my eyes focused on the parking garage roof. Hands resting on the steering wheel.

She was testing me. I only hoped I passed.

**Chapter Five**

**Astronomy**

AN: Flashbacks are * 'ed

_**"...as you float the flimsy surface, you should know life lies beneath it. Don't pretend you feel what I feel, for you live illusion and I am real..." Wanted- Vanessa Carlton** _

Finally she spoke.

"You look older." I chuckle. Older. Yeah, it has been eleven years and worrying about her every last minute of those past eleven years didn't do me any good in the looks department.

Worry ages people.

As does pain. And she looks like she's seen enough of both to last her the next century.

I turn to look at her and for the first time see her eyes.

She's changed. But she's the same. I can't turn her in.

I have this strange desire to run away with her. Run from the cops, join her if I have to.

It only seems fair. The right thing to do.

After the hell she's been through for me it seems only right that I try to make it up to her, or at least punish myself for it.

"...Where to?" I ask.

\-------------------------------------------------------------------------

My eyes widen. He asked me where I wanted to go.

He wasn't going to turn me in?

"Isn't it your job to take me to the local lock down?" I ask bitterly, looking straight ahead, hugging myself again.

"Eh. I didn't like my job all that much anyway." He brushes it off.

"Don't waste your time Vaughn." I turn to face him. "She's not letting go."

"Maybe she won't have to." I swallow the lump in my dry throat, not liking what he was implying. If anything, I did not want him dragged into this life as well.

This was no life.

"Just drive." I order stiffly and turn to look out the window. He starts the car up and pulls out.

We drive.

Through the strip. Neon lights bounce of the windshield. Dancing together in a display of color I'm sure both of our lives have lacked.

I roll the window down and let the wind blow through my hair. Breath in the night air. Watch the masses migrate from casino to casino. The wealthy, the poor looking to get rich quick. All of them.

All of them looking for Lady Luck to smile on them. Not willing to believe that the house always wins. So blind to the truth.

The streets smell of food, of money, of sin. They smell of desert air, of open freedom.

It's late, close to two, but Vegas doesn't sleep. Bright signs blare of night time entertainment.

Dark clubs full of people willing to take their clothes of for a price. Thick cigarette smoke filled joints full of all kinds of perverts and scum.

I think it's fitting he found me here.

Like some knight on a white steed, riding in to save his girl from a fate worse then death. Except that he's eleven years too late. Must have gotten lost on the way.

I wish he would have asked for directions. I'm sure Snow White's prince never had that problem.

I reach in my bag for my cigarettes. Light one up and it glows in the night. Glows like the signs around us.

We reach the end and are surrounded quickly by nothing.

The sky swallows us and we drive among the stars. The innocent deceiving stars.

\----------------------------------------------------------------

The silence is comfortable as the neon lights glare at us, but when the road runs thin. When the sky grows large... It becomes almost unbearable. Suffocating.

I roll my window down to let more air in. But still, breathing becomes a chore. My heart pounding so hard it thumps the air out of my lungs before it can be used.

I pull the car to a stop by the side of the road. There is nothing for miles, has been nothing for miles for quite a while.

I turn to face her and she opens the door and steps out into the night. I open my door and follow her as she walks quickly into the desert.

She starts to run and I pick up my pace. I'm afraid she's trying to leave me.

Suddenly she stops and turns to face me with a smile.

"It's beautiful." she puffs, her breath short from the mixture of cigarette smoke and her jog across the desert.

I nod and follow her finger to the sky. Stars sparkle, chiming like bells across the sky in accompaniment to the rustle of sage, the song of the night animals. It is beautiful.

"Can we just drive forever?" Her breath is visible in the cold desert night. She looks back to the sky and I follow suit. She can't be looked at when she's this vulnerable. It's not fair.

She must be freezing. I am. But I'm not about to cut into her time. I'd rather turn to ice than hurt her by dragging her back to that car.

"When I was a kid I took this course on astronomy." I put in not knowing why. I didn't want to take the course but my best friend told me it was a good way to get girls and it counted as a science credit, an easy A. I was a junior and starting my senior slide early. Up to this moment it has never come into use.

"Show me." She barely whispers. I start to point and she shakes her head no.

She crosses the distance between us and turns so her back is toward me, reaches behind her and takes my wrists in her hands. Pulling me the rest of the way to her she wraps one arm around her and rests her head against my chest.

Totally confused, I wonder what is going on. She lets go of my free wrist.

"Ok. Now show me." she whispers again, cuddling closer. Her hands play with the hand I have wrapped around her waist. I reach around her and take her right wrist in my right hand and bring it with me to the sky.

"There. Those stars there." I draw an upside down 'w' with our fingers. "That's Cassiopeia."

"And why is she in the sky?" Sydney asks tracing her fingers across my hand. Her voice like her smell is smoke. Ordinarily smoke is not a smell I'm all to fond of remembering. But it has always been rather intoxicating.

"Cassiopeia was the beautiful wife of Cepheus, the Ethiopian king of Joppa, and the mother of Andromeda. Cassiopeia was a very vain queen and bragged that she was more beautiful then some of the goddesses which naturally pissed them off. So they went to Neptune, the god of the sea, and complained about this queen. Neptune of course sent a sea monster to destroy the coast, what god wouldn't right?" she chuckled halfheartedly and pulled my other arm around her waist.

"So Cassiopeia and Cepheus were ordered to sacrifice their daughter, Andromeda, to appease the angry sea god. Thankfully Perseus arrived and killed the monster before Andromeda could meet her fate. As a reward he got to marry Andromeda. There are some stories that say that Cassiopeia was not happy with the match and tried everything to stop it, even ends up being turned to stone by the head of the Gorgon Medusa which Perseus slays. But most agree that she was rather happy."

"Nice story." she sighs and starts to pull away. I tighten my arms around her preventing her from further movement.

"It's not finished." I pull her hand up to point out the stars. "That star there is her head, those two her hands, resting on the sides of her throne..." I drift off and she picks up on what I'm trying to show her.

"She's upside down." I bring our hands back to her stomach.

"Even though Neptune ended up placing her in the heavens, he saw fit to humiliate her for her vanity one last time, for all to see throughout eternity. He placed her with her head pointing toward the North Star so that she spends half of each night upside down."

"Cosmic justice." she sighs pulling away. She walks ten feet then pauses, keeping her back to me. "You'll have to turn me in. Eventually. You can't keep me safe forever." Then she heads back to the car, climbs in and shuts the door. Waiting for me to return and keep driving.

Her face forward, not looking at me at all. Ignoring my existence.

We drive. For hours. Forever.

She sleeps, head resting against the window, arms wrapped tightly around herself. She sleeps, almost as deeply as after I'd made love to her that night so long ago.

_* "Sorry, guess I dozed off." she smiled and burrowed deeper into the nest of my arms. Pain shot through every limb but I resisted giving into it._

_"You're beautiful. Every part of you." I answered, brushed the hair from her face, kissed her forehead then her lips._

_"I never sleep like that. I don't know what came over me." she smiled, traced a finger down my jaw, let her hand dance across my chest. "Not since Danny died and I learned the truth."_

_"Shh. It's ok. Go back to sleep." *_

She'd smiled and had done anything but go back to sleep.

Looking over to her face, troubled even in sleep, I couldn't help the feelings that washed over me again. Couldn't help remembering how much I loved her.

I pulled over to watch the sun rise.

Flagstaff. Somehow that’s where we ended up when the sun started to rise. Just outside of Flagstaff. I have an aunt in Flagstaff.

I stepped out of the car and sat on the hood.

The route we’d taken was scenic at best, aimless at worst. I’d taken whatever road looked good at the moment. I had no idea where we were going. No plan whatsoever.

And in the starlight that had seemed right. Seemed like the only way. With her sleeping soundly next to me. Her face reflected off the windshield. It seemed like the only thing to do for the broken girl clinging to herself even in sleep.

But as the sun started to rise, casting it’s golden light, it’s amber warmth, and citron smell. It ordered order. Craved control.

And I was at a complete loss.

The car door slammed behind me and the hood bounced slightly as she climbed up next to me, rubbed the sleep from her eyes.

"Don't do this to yourself Vaughn." She whispered. I nodded.

"I don't have any other choice Syd. I can't just turn you in. I can't lose you again. Devlin was right. I am too attached." I sighed watching the sky lighten.

"He wanted to send someone else. I should have listened. But I had to see you. Do you know how hard letting you go was?" I asked turning to face her. She offered a slight frown and slid down off of the hood of the car.

Hugging her arms to her chest she stood with her back to me.

"We have to go," she sighed and started back to the car.

Reluctantly I nodded. Not that she saw however, she was already waiting in the car.

I did the only thing I could... Slipped silently in next to her and pulled onto the road again.

Letting her silence swallow mine.

Chapter Six

Greasy Spoon

_**...They all sleep. We just dream... Travis-More then Us** _

Yellow lines, white lines, black pavement faded over time, potholes and cracks.

Over and over, the road continues forever. It's stable, it's the same anywhere. Every country in the world has at least one road like this one, worn and in need of repair, almost forgotten. A global constant.

Everyone smiles. Everyone cries. Everyone loves. Everyone hates. And they all have roads like this one.

Global constants are comforting.

We could run out of gas in the middle of this desert. We could disappear together. We are smart enough to hide... at least for awhile.

I'd dye my hair again, maybe red. That's the color he first knew me by. Maybe we could start over again.

I could go blonde. Alice was blonde though. I don't think blonde is a good color on me anyway.

Brown is nondescript. The color I should go if I want to disappear. But I'm not sure I'll ever go back to brown. Brown is Francie, Will, SD-6, LA, the CIA, Emily. Brown is what I've lost. It's just not me anymore.

I tap my fingers on the door frame. In time with Elvis, in time with Ms. Ross, in time with the Beatles. Songs from yesterday, some from before my time, all from before SD-6.

Silent mutual agreement landed us on this station. This or country. I can't take any of those country singers belting out their hearts when mine is so broken.

What do they know about love, about loss or betrayal? What could they know? What could any of them know?

In their big houses, with all their money. Never facing the truth of life. Never knowing about the hundreds of people risking their lives to protect those lives that they've built, to allow them to stay safe in their house on the hill.

Never having to give everything up to save the ones they love.

My finger nails are broken, the black polish chipping away. The tips stained yellow.

Vaughn's fingers are healthy, they grip the steering wheel at ten and two, knuckles white. They flex every once and awhile. Releasing the wheel and tightening again.

He stares straight ahead, jaw locked in place, frown entrenched on forehead. He shifts under my harsh and open stare.

He doesn't know what to do with me. I don't blame him. I don't know what to do with me.

I'd love to give the fucking bastard all the answers in the world. But I'd like a few of my own first. And I don't know how to word the questions.

I dig in my purse again. Look for my friendly pals, I need a smoke more then anything. I pull the carton out and find it empty. I don't remember smoking them all.

Vaughn watches from the corner of his eye as I shove the carton back into my bag and chuck the bag to the back seat.

"I threw them out while you were asleep." he admits. What a bastard. I'm not surprised though. Not in the least.

He wants to save me from myself. He just doesn't realize he's eleven years too late.

"I'm just getting more at our next stop." I informed him.

"I know."

"Then why did you do it?"

"How could I not?" I nodded. How could he not?

Silence. A few hours. Another stop. Cigarettes. Silence.

He doesn't condemn me as I light up again. Why can't he just yell at me? I know he wants to. I know it's killing him not too.

Killing him not to just have it out with me.

I savor the smoke. Rub the fact that I know he hates this in his face.

Grind the cigarette into the upholstery of his rental car.

Still he doesn't answer. Just frowns even more. Treats me like I'm made of glass.

I wish I could tell him I wasn't. But I don't know anymore.

We stop at a small diner just outside of Pantano as the sun climbs higher in the sky almost reaching it's peak. The chill of the night long ago scorched away as the sun's rays beat down.

The kind of greasy mom and pop establishment that everyone runs away to. The black and white floor tiles, the repaired one too many times cushions. The kind of place that is hanging on the edge of bankruptcy, it's only saving grace being the quality of the food. And even the food not being enough.

She smokes and plays with her fruit salad. Pushes a piece of cantaloupe to the edge of her plate and then back, cigarette burning in the ashtray. Smoke wafting up and tainting the food. She avoids eye contact at all costs. One hand in her lap.

Our waitress's name is Becky, she dropped out of school at sixteen when her boyfriend knocked her up. Now she works at the diner to pay for her kid. That's what Margie, the diner's owner, passed on anyway.

_"Poor girl. Her life's been so hard you know. Only sixteen and she's trying to make her keep. Her father kicked her out when little Taylor came along. Cute as a button that little girl. If only Becky's father could see that...And how is everything here folks?"_

Sydney grinds her cigarette into the table top when Margie leaves. I'm pretty sure it was her subtle way of lashing out at the woman. I've noticed she does that a lot. Destroys things when she's pissed.

I don't know how I'm going to explain the scorched upholstery in the rental.

I push the rest of the club sandwich to the other side of my plate. I'm not hungry anymore. Wasn't really hungry when we stopped. But I figured she needed to get something in her.

Since she wasn't eating though, I guess my plan failed.

"So where are we going?" she finally asked, looking up briefly to meet my eyes then quickly retreating back to her plate, to pushing a piece of honeydew around in small circles, fork scraping the plate.

"I thought maybe Mexico. I don't know. Where do you want to go?" I asked picking up the salt shaker and playing with it. Tilting it on its side and watching it fall back. When I was younger I used to pour some on the table and make it stand on it's edge.

I'm pretty sure though, the tension and unspoken words could make it stand on edge without the added salt.

She laughs, harsh and scraping, not light and airy or innocent. Cynical and bitter.

"How long are we gonna play this game? But if you're insistent on it... I want to go to Ecuador. I want to go to my mother's home. You still want to come along?" she bit out. Trying to wound me with her words. What she didn't realize however was she couldn't say anything that would hurt me more then her new attitude.

"Ecuador it is then." I answered to her obvious shock, eyes widening, fork dropping. I hid my smile as she tried to quickly recover, scrambling for her fork, face instantly falling again. "You finished?" I asked as she started to push the fruit around again.

"I'll tell you when I'm done." she bit out again, trying to save face. I was going to have to remind her who I was pretty soon. Remind her that she didn't have to put on the act for me.

"I'm going to use the restroom then." I stood up and left her sitting there, not sure if she'd still be there when I got back.

"He'll be right back." I tell Margie as I quickly exit the diner. The door closes behind me and I remember I have something to tell Becky. I turn around and enter the diner again, quickly make my way over to her as she pours some old farts coffee.

"Give her up. Give her a family. And screw what your father thinks." I flash her a brilliant smile as her eyes start to tear up. Good.

Little girls don't deserve to grow up like that. Especially little girls who are 'cute as a button.'

Sure I didn't know the whole story. But it's always the same and frankly, I couldn't care less. I just don't need another angry little girl in this world. We all know what that leads to.

I slam the door behind me and stalk off toward the road.

I realized that not all angry little girls turn into super spies bent on world domination. I realized that not all angry little girls play the man they marry. Ruin their daughters.

Ruin themselves.

Join the first 'government' agency that tells them they are perfect for the job.

Screw over the people they love.

I was going to take the car but I figured Vaughn will need it and hate him or not I can't just leave him without a ride.

Besides there are lots of lonely truckers out there. I stalk over to the road and stick my thumb out. Roll up my shirt a little and show some skin.

There is one thing that can be said, I at least know how to draw attention.

A blue neon slows down, it's full of college age guys, all leering and acting like idiots. Probably thinking they are going to get something. Screw what they were thinking, it's not like I couldn't kill them with my pinky.

They stop and I lean in the passenger window.

One of them is smoking and I take the cigarette from his mouth, stick it in my own inhale then return it.

"Hey boys. Where ya headed?" I ask with the perfect smile.

The driver rolls in his tongue to answer.

"Mexico City. Jump in." he tried smoothly. I go to reach for the handle of the back door and another hand reaches down from behind me, grabs my wrist as one arm wraps around my waist pulling me back.

"Sorry boys. She's with me. She had a bet going with her girlfriend." He pointed back at the diner, Margie stood outside sheepishly.

"Fuck you." I muttered under my breath and his arms tightened.

"See her girlfriend over there didn't think she'd do it. Sorry for the inconvenience." He tugged me backward, holding me in an embrace I did not want to be sharing with him. I stomped on the instep of his foot with my heel. He only squeezed me in response.

"Are you sure?" the driver asked, not believing Vaughn's story. It was rather obvious I didn’t' want to be with him as I elbowed him in the ribs.

"Stop." he growled in my ear.

"We're quiet sure. Part of the bet." Margie stepped in. "Ok I got it. You won." she directed toward me.

I'd stopped squirming at Vaughn's order however. He'd used that tone once before with me. Only then it had been followed by a wild display of passion, that had left me more then breathless.

The tone did nothing less then convince me to stay in his arms as long as I could.

I even entertained the thought of staying with him. The idea that maybe he could help heal me.

"Good girl." he smirked into my ear as I stopped fighting him.

Bastard. They were all the same. Even Vaughn wasn't above it.

The car pulled away and drove off, Margie went back into the diner as Vaughn thanked her. But he didn't let me go.

"Am I that unpleasant?" He asked, his voice full of pain.

"I don't know what you want. I don't know what you are thinking. You can't do this Vaughn. We can't do this. I just don't know what you want." I yelled. He pulls me tightly to him.

"Is it so much to ask? Why can't you just let me take you where you want to go? I just want to help you, that's all I've ever wanted. Is it so much... to let me drive you to your mother? That's all I want."

I wanted to believe him. But I knew that wasn't all he wanted.

I wanted to believe that he just wanted me. Wanted to be with me. That for eleven years he didn't sleep because he worried about me. That for eleven years I was all he ate, all he breathed, all he slept.

I wanted to believe he still loved me. Wanted to believe that so badly it ached.

But he couldn't. Not after everything.

He let me go when I didn't answer him and I quickly put a few feet between us. Arms crossed tightly.

He just wanted to save me. He felt guilty.

I wanted to believe so badly that it wasn't guilt that motivated him. But I knew the only reason he was here was because he felt guilty for letting me trade my life for his. Felt guilty about not getting me out sooner.

Any love he may have felt... well that died with Sydney Bristow.

"Alright. You can take me to Ecuador." I finally relented. I could trust him, unlike anyone else. He would be a safe travel companion and I knew he'd do everything in his power to make sure I wasn't hurt anymore.

Anyone else could not be so reliable. Anyone else could lead to unnecessary trouble.

Besides, I missed him. Whether I wanted to admit that or not. I missed him.

"I'm going to settle things with Margie. I'll be right back." he acknowledged and I felt him pause before turning to go. I'm sure he had more to say. But he didn't speak. For which I was grateful.

He came back with the car, got out and sat on the hood as I stared off into space.

He waited as long as I needed to work up the courage to get back into his car. I don't think he knew how hard that was. Getting back into his car. Admitting that I didn't want to loose him again. Letting him take care of me.

I knew if I got back into that car I would hurt him. And true he deserved it. Still I didn't want to hurt him.

When we got to Ecuador he would leave again. I would loose him again. It was the only way things could go. He couldn't stay with my mother. Couldn't betray everything he stood for. And I could not ask him to.

He may still live in a perfect world, but mine was far from it. And he'd soon realize that I am not the same. That he can't save me.

That no amount of waiting would fix this. God, I wished this was some awful dream.

Chapter Seven

Beautiful?

_**"...so break me, take me. Just let me fill your arms again. Break me, take me. Just let me feel your love again...” Jewel- Break Me** _

Palomar...

It's small. Dirty. The middle of nowhere Mexico.

Perfect for us.

He pulls the car over at a dinky roach infested motel. If you could even call it that.

The room is grimy. Rat infested. A stained mattress thrown down in the corner, a shared bathroom down the hall with leaky pipes.

Drip. Drip. Drip.

The perfect place for someone like me to disappear too.

Even now after the darkness has settled in, the heat is stiffing.

And it smells, like rotting garbage, like burning flesh. Like death and decay.

One bed.

"I'll sleep on the floor." He volunteered.

"Don't be stupid." I complain. slipping off the uncomfortable boots. "Sleep on the bed."

I want to tell him to hold me, heal me. He always could before. I want to believe that he still can. I know that's impossible though.

I unbutton my shorts, turn my back to him and unzip them. Let them fall to the floor, kick them to the corner as I discard the fishnet stockings as well.

I turn around and he's staring.

"What?" I demand. Uncomfortable with the way he's looking at me. Like I'm someone he used to know.

I'm not Sydney.

I don't understand why he can't see that.

\--------------------------------------------------------------------------

A grimy, roach filled, rat infested, hole in the wall with a mattress, probably full of bed bugs and other various parasitic life forms,...

and I wouldn't be anywhere else in the world.

I can't help but watch her undress. It's an incredibly pig like act, shallow and jerky. But she's so beautiful. And for a moment I can see the old Sydney in her. The lost little girl.

She spins around and demands, "What?" Her voice is harsh, raw, open.

"You're beautiful." it slips and I could kick myself for it. I'm not supposed to fall in love with her again. (Again? Like I ever stopped.) I'm supposed to deliver her to her mother. Leave her again.

But I can't think about leaving her when all I want to do is cradle her to me. Kiss her bruised face, strip all the over done makeup off and see the person she is hiding behind it. The one I love so much it hurts.

Her breath catches and she stumbles slightly. I can see her mind trying to adjust to my comment. Trying to grasp at it's meaning. Apparently she doesn't hear that enough.

I want to close the distance between us. Hold her all night. Kiss away her tears. Run away to Ecuador with her.

I'd do anything to fix our past.

But I can't move. If I move she runs.

So I stand staring. Waiting...

Waiting for something from her. Any clue that she wants me. I don't think she does want me anymore.

\--------------------------------------------------------------------

Beautiful?

He still thinks I'm beautiful?

I don't... I can't... Why?

How?

Beautiful?

Is that possible?

I need a cigarette.

I fumble with the clasp on my purse. My fingers are so thick and clumsy.

Beautiful?

The damn latch won't open. It won't open and he thinks I'm beautiful and I'm not supposed to be beautiful.

I'm not supposed to let him affect me and the damn latch still won't open and I need a cigarette.

And it's sohotinhereandIcan'tbreathandI'mslippingand...

Damn it!

I fling my purse against the wall.

And I'm strong. I'm stronger then this damn it.

But still tears slip down my cheek.

Real tears. I don't understand them. I don't understand why they are there. I don't understand why he still thinks I'm beautiful or why my fingers can't open the damn latch or why it'ssohotorwhyIcan'tbreath?

I slip to the floor. Pull my knees to my chest and start to rock.

Not suppose to crack here. Not suppose to lose it. Not suppose to let him see.

Rewind. Play. Stop. I need my tape recorder. Stop.

Not suppose to feel anything. Not suppose to care.

Why do I care?

And then his arms are around me and all I can think about is how they make me feel like a person.

How they make me feel important.

Loved.

Special.

How suddenly breathing isn't so hard. And if I could just take him with me I'm sure I wouldn't need my cigarettes, wouldn't need my blade, wouldn't need my tape recorder.

Just him.

How if he could just tell me I'm beautiful, how everything would be ok.

How his arms make me believe things that I know can't be true. How his arms give me some kind of hope.

How his scent makes me feel whole again. Invincible. Perfect.

Beautiful.

\--------------------------------------------------------------------------

I watch her fumble with her purse. She's muttering something I don't understand. And she's cracking even more.

I feel like shit. I did that to her. I broke her again.

She flings the purse against the wall and sinks to the floor. Rocking back and forth like it's the only thing that can save her.

My arms and heart ache to much to leave her there.

I kneel behind her and pull her close. Bury my head in her neck and whisper.

"Sydney...shhh....it's ok... I'm here... Syd....shh...."

I sit down and she climbs into my lap. Buries her head into my chest and clings to me like I'm the only thing left in the world. I hug her closer.

I can't leave her in Ecuador. If I had any doubts before I don't anymore.

I know what I have to do. And I'm more then happy to do that for her.

Screw the US government.

There are some things that are more important. And Sydney Bristow is one of those things.

She stops crying after about twenty or so minutes. Just sits there in my lap, running one hand up and down my chest. Tracing circles on the soft fabric of my shirt. Driving me absolutely insane.

"Sydney..." my voice is strangled in my throat.

And suddenly her lips are on mine.

Pushing against mine, demanding, taking.

She breaks away slightly and rips my shirt over my head and then she's back. Her hands roaming over my naked chest, producing reactions.

She pushes me down and straddles my chest. My back biting into the cold hard gritty painted concrete floor. Her lips demanding more. Her hands finding their way to the button on my pants. Undoing it. Unzipping the zipper.

I sit up, push her back, and grab her wrists.

"No. Sydney. That isn't what I want. It isn't what you want either."

She looks down, ashamed I'm sure.

I pull her close again, hugging her to me tightly.

"It's ok."

Placing one arm under her ass and wrapping the other tightly around her back I stumble as I stand. Cradling her to me. She wraps her arms around my neck, her legs around my waist, helping me carry her.

Her head buried in my neck, I walk over to the mattress, kiss the top of her head and kneel next to it. Sitting her on the edge of it I untangle her arms from around my neck.

"Lie down." she complies. I fasten my pants again and turn to go. "I'll be right back."

\-------------------------------------------------------------

He returns a few minutes after he left. In his hand he has a scrap of cloth. Kneeling by the mattress he places the cloth on my forehead and begins to wipe at my face. The cool water washing away the streaked mascara, the thick foundation and exaggerated eye shadow.

He brushes my face lightly but firmly. As if by removing the make up he can remove the past. The sins that stain my soul.

His eyes follow his hand. Lost in the movements of cleaning my face.

I wonder what he is thinking. What he sees when he removes the makeup.

If he still sees me. Or if he's lost in the memories of before.

Of our warehouse meetings. Of SD-6 and all that used to be. Of King's game tickets.

I close my eyes and he traces my features with the rough scrap.

Across my eyelids, down my nose, across my lips.

I reach up and grab his wrist. Tug on it gently and he understands.

He sets the scrap down on the table next to the mattress and climbs into the bed next to me.

I don't open my eyes.

I don't want to see.

I pull his arms around me and fall asleep.

\---------------------------------------------------------------

I cradle her in my arms. She's dressed in my t-shirt and a lacy excuse for underwear. If my shirt wasn't long enough to cover that flimsy excuse I don't know how I'd be able to stay with her like this.

Knowing about that black scrap was torture enough. Having the problem of it staring me in the face would be too much.

Having her warm body cradled against my naked chest was not easy either.

I watched her sleep.

Small puffs of breath escaping her barely parted perfectly shaped lips. Lower lip twitching from time to time. One hand resting gently by her face. Her legs laced with mine. Her other hand resting against my chest.

I brushed a stray strand of blue from her face. Kissed her forehead and released her.

No longer able to look at her without making a huge mistake.

I cover us with the thin sheet. Better if I can't see her at all.

Then I turned my back on her and fell asleep.

\---------------------------------------------------------------------

I wake up and he's not holding me anymore. I'm not surprised. Still I miss him.

I want to turn over and watch him sleep. But I can't let myself do that. If I did...

I just can't.

I sigh deeply. Wondering how in the hell we ended up in bed together. Wondering how in the hell I was going to let him go after everything.

He rolls over in his sleep and comes to rest with his chest directly at my back, his arm slung lazily over my hips, floating almost. I take his hand in mine, place it on the skin his t-shirt has exposed when it rode up. He's awake, his breathing pattern has changed.

He moves his hand of his own free will now and I let mine drop away. Circles. He rubs circles on my stomach. First with his hand then with his finger that dips lower and higher with ever circle. I push my ass into his stomach, squirm against him slightly as I try to fit us together better and eliminate any extra space.

He stops circling and puts his hand on my naked waist, fingers resting dangerously on my pelvic bone. He pulls me back. Let's go and traces a finger up and down my side. Up to my armpit, down to my hips, over my hips, finger bouncing over the thin strap of my underwear.

I feel his smile on the back of my neck as he leans in and brushes a kiss there.

I repulse myself, how can I not repulse him as well.

"I love you." he whispers then suddenly pulls back. I can tell he didn't mean to say that, though I know he means it.

"I love you too." I answer back without looking at him. As if that matters. We both know what is going to happen if he stays in bed with me.

He moves to leave. He really does love me.

I reach behind myself and grab his hand, pull him back, slip it under the t-shirt.

"Don't go." He gets the picture. I think I've underestimated the man. He sure as hell can surprise me. He leans over and kisses my forehead.

He's looking at me. At my naked skin, at the bruises, teethmarks, and hickeys my earlier encounter has left me with. At the scars that line my stomach, from my job, from cutting, from burning.

He pulls the sheet down with that frown on his forehead. See's my scared thighs. He comes up and grabs my wrists, examines my forearms, sees the marks there. He's so sad about them. So sad and worried and hurt.

I cry for him. He mutters calming words and kisses them. My marks of pain. The one's others have inflicted, the ones I've given myself. He kisses my arms, my stomach, my thighs. He makes sure to kiss every mark he can reach. Then he rolls me over and kisses the rest of them.

Rolling me back over he kisses my tears, my nose then my lips. He's good at that. I breath him in again. And again and again. He's resting on me, with just enough weight to make me feel safe. He's breathing in my face, his breath ragged and full of want.

But he won't take anything from me. He will wait. Unlike everyone else in the world.

He looks in my eyes and then he starts to cry.

I did not expect that from him. He rolls on his back and lets a few silent tears fall. He stares at the ceiling and cries for me. I roll on my side next to him cuddle up to his side and rest my head on his chest.

"Why?" he whispers.

"I hurt Vaughn. All the time. I hurt." It's all I can give him and suddenly I need a cigarette. Need to hurt myself for hurting him. I slide out of bed, stalk over to my bag and pull the carton out, dump a cigarette into my hand and pull out my lighter.

He watches as the glow from my lighter lights my face, he watches as I blatantly disregard the no smoking room policy. (A dump like this still has rules about that. Amusing.)

I find it arousing. Him watching me smoke. But I don't let him know his stare is turning me on.

I finish the cigarette and in habit go to put it out on my stomach. I don't hurt so much now but old habits die hard.

"Don't." he orders sternly from his spot on the bed. I want to mock him for it. So after I pause for a bit I continue the cigarette's journey toward my stomach.

He jumps out of bed and is by me in a second, my wrist trapped in his hand.

"Try it on me if you have to. But don't do it to yourself." I nod and he releases my hand.

"Do you mean it?" I ask. I'm mad at him. He didn't get me out. I waited for eleven years and he never got me out.

He nods.

I stick the butt right into his stomach not caring as he flinches. I remember the first time I burnt myself, how much it hurt. But he stands there and takes it.

I light another one. Smoke it and extinguish it on his firm abdomen. He doesn't flinch. I light another.

I'm taking it out on him, all the years that I suffered through the same sorts of treatment. He doesn't cry but I do.

I sob, I wail, it isn't pretty.

By the time I finish my third cigarette I can't continue and I grind the butt into the table instead. I fall to my knees and kiss his wounds.

"So sorry. So sorry. sosoorysosorrysosorry...."

"We match." he jokes and cradles my head in his hands. "I love you." he repeats. It infuriates me.

Don't love me. I don't deserve it.

I stand and punch him in the stomach, bite his neck, his lip until it bleeds and we are kissing. Furiously so, his hands are all over me.

I pull away. He doesn't follow me.

I push him down on the bed. Straddle him. My face hovers over his, a blue curtain of hair blocks us from the rest of the world.

"I still love you." he says again.

"Prove it." I encourage and he has me on my back. "Prove it." He trails kisses down my jaw, my neck.

He stops, pulls me to his side, covers both of us and kisses the top of my head.

"I'm not going to hurt you again. Go to sleep." he orders.

Problem is he spent the last five minutes teasing me. Sleep is not on my agenda anytime soon.

"Vaughn." I moan. He smiles.

"No. And if you keep it up I'm sleeping on the floor." Bastard. He's giving me so much. And I know I'll love him more in the morning for not taking me but hell right now I'm so turned on it's disgusting.

"Please help me." I moan brushing against him.

"I mean it Syd." he warns tightening his grip on me.

I nod. He's right. I hate that he's right.

But he is.

It should be enough that he's still here. And it is.

"Vaughn..." I ask tentatively.

"Yes?" His eyes are closed but he is smiling as he gives me another squeeze.

"What happens tomorrow?"

"I don't know. I honestly don't know."

Chapter Eight

Decisions

_**...he wakes up to the sound, so scared that she's leaving. He wishes she were still asleep next to him. Hoping she will change. In my mind, everything we did was right. Open your eyes I'll still be here by your side... Something to Sleep To- Michelle Branch** _

I wake up to the sound of the door clicking.

It takes everything in me to trust that she'll be back. That she hasn't left.

I told myself that I'd just stay in the bed. That I wouldn't get up and look for her.

I end up pacing the room anyway.

At least I manage to stay in the room. I mean, I deserve credit for that, right?

I need a cigarette.

I used to be a chain smoker. I kicked that habit, but at times like this, I could _really_ use a cigarette.

I know she's a big girl, that she can take care of herself. I try not to think about how she is now... Yeah she can take care of herself...

That's why she's broken now.

That's why I eye the carton on the small table. Almost empty.

And suddenly all that matters is that I have one. I know it's selfish of me to forget Sydney. But if I don't I think I might just lose it.

Eleven fucking years and if she's just going to walk away there is nothing I can do about it.

Nothing.

I remove a cigarette and twist it between my fingers, put it up to my nose and breath in its calming scent.

The door clicks behind me.

I turn to see Syd standing there. My t-shirt flung over her arm, traded in for a halter top and a sarong. The top, black and exposing her stomach. The sarong, blood-red with white flowers. She traded her boots in for strappy hemp sandals and the fishnet stockings are gone.

She moves toward me, her long tan leg exposed when she moves. When she reaches me she takes the cigarette from my hand and places it in her mouth, lights it, takes a drag and offers it to me.

It's some kind of test.

And it's just like I remembered.

She smiles as I finish the cigarette off and extinguish it on the table.

"Come on. Let's get out of here." she smiles and chucks me the shirt.

\----------

We left Palomar with a quiet understanding, unwritten, and unspoken but understood. When we hit Ecuador he wouldn't be leaving.

We left everything behind. He left his suitcase with his CIA garb. I left my leather bag with the new red pill.

We "borrowed" a convertible and sped off. Him in his t-shirt and open button down of cobalt blue, khaki slacks and a pair of leather sandals I'd convinced him to trade his boring black dress shoes in for. I had to admit, not staring at the way his t-shirt fit him was definitely a challenge. And this look was doing very nice things for him.

We gave up on the radio and instead listened to the cd player blaring the Goo Goo Dolls, Nirvana, Pearl Jam, Everclear, and Dave Matthews.

I pulled on some sunglasses, kicked off my sandals, and put my feet on the dash; tipped my head over the back of the seat, arms stretched out soaking up the sun. One foot tapping on the door frame to the rhythm of the music's slow methodic beat, picking up pace for the faster songs, slowing again as we cover mile after mile.

I watched him out of the corner of my eye, his hand keeping beat on the steering wheel, a small smile on his lips as he stole small, quick glances my way.

Smile on my lips, I recalled the last forty eight hours.

I certainly never thought I would be here driving off into the sunset with Vaughn. Happy enough even. This was probably just the calm before the storm. The moment when the wind ceases, but the smell of rain is still in the air. When you know so clearly that you're in for trouble and the still leaves, and absence of sound just confirm that sinking inside.

But the delicate tropical breeze, the sun's warm scent masking that cool tinge of rain in the distance. Music bubbling inside just begging to be let out.

Moments like this are few and far between. I could downplay the fear of what would happen when The Man saw him. Make myself believe that everything would be ok.

\----

It was around one when I pulled over by a deserted beach. She turned to look at me, lifted her sunglasses and smiled before jumping over the door and running toward the water, pausing a few feet from the car to turn and smile again at me before continuing.

I didn't need any more encouragement.

Jumping over the side of the door and following her, grabbing her around the waist when I'd caught up with her. Lifting her off the ground and pinning her arms to her side.

"Did you want something?" I smirked in her ear, letting myself enjoy the feel of her struggling weakly against me, the scent of her hair.

Before I know what has hit me she latches her foot around my knee and sends us both crashing to the ground, laughing and rolling around in the sand. She struggling to free herself, me struggling to keep as much of her squirming body as I could pressed close to me.

She escapes my arms. I had no doubts that eventually she would. Rising to her feet she pulls her halter top off to expose a small black bikini top. Backing away she quickly removes the sarong as well.

I swallow the urge to lunge at her and take her in the sand.

She giggles, reading my mind. "Come on." she urges heading toward the water.

I quickly strip myself of shoes and shirts and run to the water's edge to join her.

\---

He dives after me when the water reaches his knees, swims gracefully to my side with ease and perfection. Pulling me to his chest as he wipes at his face.

"I didn't know you were such and excellent swimmer." I comment smugly. Evil plans formulating in my head. His hands sliding up and down my back under the water.

The ocean is calm and the waves gently rise around us, sending us slowly toward the shore, gently lifting us and bringing us back down. In an endless struggle.

Smiling he pulls me closer to him quickly, trying to throw me off guard. I award him with a small smile and he answers it, knowing he didn't succeed. I wait patiently for him to make his next move.

Nothing.

He just stands there staring.

Deciding to take action myself, I smile coyly and trace my fingers up his arms to his shoulders. He watches with interest, one eyebrow cocked.

Suddenly, I can't decide whether I want to dunk him or continue my fingers journey up and behind his neck, down his shoulders. My fingers just seem to want to keep contact with his very nice chest and back. They were enjoying the taste of his skin, the scent of his sweat and the tang of the ocean's wetness, the vibrations of wave and warmth.

And before I can decide he decides for me, disappearing under the surface and out of my arms.

Smiling, I duck under the water.

\---

I came up a good ten feet from her, only she isn't where she was. Smiling I sit and wait for her to sneak up on me.

Seconds drag on and she doesn't resurface. Now I know she can swim and I know that she's probably just fooling around with me but still the situation is making me a little more than nervous.

Wave after wave hits my back and I give up trying to act cool and instead scan the surface furiously. Looking for any hint of her.

Then suddenly I'm forced underwater, water filling my mouth and nose, her strong hands pressing down on my shoulders. Water is taking the place that air should have and all I can feel is relief that she's ok. I think I'm probably I little bit paranoid about losing her again.

Not that anyone could blame me.

I reach up and grab her wrists. Then flip over on my back tugging her underwater with me. I break the surface just long enough to bring air to my burning lungs then roll some more with her under the water, letting her get air when she needed it. Fooling around as the waves pushed us closer to the shore.

When wrestling with each other was getting out of hand, (clarification: when I had to stop touching her or risk going too far too fast) we resorted to an all out water war. Splashing and flinging water around wildly.

She laughed. She giggled. And that was when I knew for certain that Sydney Bristow wasn't dead.

She was hurt and hiding, but her laughter, the carefree nature of her play, because she _was_ playing, only proved that I hadn't lost her for good.

God that felt good to know.

And I wished that I could stay here in the ocean with her forever. Because I knew as soon as we got back into that car Sydney would go into hiding again and I would step into my new role. She would be her mother's daughter and I would be her new recruit.

Traitors. Imposters.

Oh we'd tell ourselves we were being noble, that we were sacrificing everything we loved to save those we loved. She was saving her friends and her father. I... well I was in it to save her.

And nothing else would matter.

It was too late to change my mind even if I wanted to. Which I had no intention of doing. I'd signed my death warrant with that cigarette. Whether or not she realized that I didn't know. But I knew. I knew that there was nothing that could make me go back to the life I had, the one without these small moments where we could be ourselves.

We'd come almost back to where we'd started as I splashed some water toward her one last time. She ran up onto the the beach and I lazily followed her, collapsing in the sand and sun next to her.

"I wish we could stay here forever." she sighed, grabbing her sarong and wrapping it around her waist. "Though I could do without the hot sand." she smiled pulling her feet up under her and wrapping her arms around her knees.

I was grateful for my soaking wet pants that kept the sand from burning my legs, my feet were telling me that it wasn't all that pleasant.

I reached over and grabbed my T-shirt tossing it at her.

"Here. Put that under you."

"Thanks." She stood and spread the shirt out, then sat and put her feet on the shirt.

"I'm sorry it took me so long." I finally manage, breaking the silence but not looking at her. I hear her sigh and I feel her turn her head away from me. Then I mentally kick myself for bringing her back down.

"...me too..." she finally let out. Then as if she could, she picked the mood out of the air and tossed it out to the sea where it could be swallowed.

"What have you been up to lately?" Her voice held too much cheer and I knew she was blocking out the past. I could give her that.

"The office isn't as entertaining since you've been gone."

"Really? I tried hard to give you guys something to do." It was sarcastic and I could hear the hurt she tried to hide.

"Is that right?" I joked back. Playing her game. That's what I had agreed to. That's what I'd stick to.

"Why don't you just ask me what is on your mind? Why don't you just tell me?" she stood up and crossed her arms across her chest. Putting more space between us by stepping forward a few steps. "Why don't you tell me how you hate me? How you feel guilty and how that's the only reason you're here?" she drifted off and I tried to gather my thoughts. Just as I stood and was about to answer her she almost whispered.

"Condemn me. I've waited long enough for it."

I never stopped to think that I had any right to be angry with her. Anger was a new feeling. But her words, the very idea that I could condemn her, it hit a nerve. And even though I knew she was just trying to make me angry, trying to make me give her an excuse to run off and find her own way, I couldn't control my outburst.

“Condemn you?! If I could do that, if I could write you off so easily, don't you think I would have eleven years ago? Shit Sydney! _You have no right to tell me why I am here and what I feel._ " The words came faster and I realized I'd slipped into my native tongue. It was a damn good thing I knew she was fluent in french.

" _Condemn you?! For what? Being human. And me? It's my fault you are in this mess and I didn't get you out of this situation. If I condemn you, I must condemn myself too. And your father? It's true that he's involved, right? And Will? Hey, while we're at it, we'll condemn your third grade teacher too because she had to have made a mistake for you to end up here?_!"

I saw her flinch at the mention of Will's name. It was low and even I knew that. Will was killed because she tried to get out. I felt like shit for bringing it up but I hoped it would hit home.

And just like Sydney Bristow, she surprised me.

"He," she stated simply.

"What?" I asked totally lost.

"My third grade teacher was a man. He."

I chuckled and wrapped my arms around her waist, "Oh Sydney..." I sighed over her shoulder.

"I'm sorry. I'm sorry I wasn't stronger. I'm sorry I couldn't wait for you." she mumbled. I turned her to face me.

"I'm sorry I yelled. And I'm sorry I wasn't there. But I don't blame you for anything." I tilted her face up so I could look at her. "I was never angry with you. I was only frustrated with myself. Frustrated that I couldn't do a better job. That I couldn't have saved you all this pain. So many times I've wondered if I had just never found you at the train station... if I'd just left you there when I walked in and saw you... if I'd just never volunteered to go along... Would you have made it out? Would you have been safe?"

"Vaughn..." she tried to interrupt but I silenced her with a finger to her lips.

"No... it doesn't matter. I never could have just walked away and we both know it. You see in the end it doesn't matter what might have happened. It's only what did happen that matters... and even that... well that's in the past. And if we continue to look back on it and say if only... well we aren't ever going to get anywhere. I told you once before that if you needed me I would be there. The offer still stands. It always will."

"What if I don't need you?" she asked softly.

"Then I don't think you're a good judge of what you need." She smiled at my unspoken vow to stay with her.

"Good. Cause I'm not sure I know what I need anymore." She sighed and buried her head in my shoulder. I squeezed her tight. My hands learning the flesh of her back again. My nose breathing in her smoky presence.

Suddenly she pulled away and stared into my face, her face soft and questioning... slowly melting into a smile.

This time when she kisses me... it's soft. Gentle.

Her heart on her lips, her hands in my hair, her lips... so so soft. Like the gentle kiss of the wind on my cheek. Like the soft folds of a warm clean bed. Like the flames licking gently at the logs in the fireplace as two friends discuss life over a glass of merlot.

And then she breaks away slowly.

And I knew.

I couldn't imagine my life without her. I knew I'd never have enough time. There would never be enough ways, enough words, enough...

Enough... It's a strange word. But it expresses everything I feel.

Whatever else may happen... Whatever else we may loose... It won't matter...

Because in that moment, we had enough. We are enough. She is enough. I lived a lifetime in that kiss. A full and happy lifetime. And if my life doesn't get any better, it's enough.

It was as if all my life I'd been waiting for that one kiss, that one moment when I knew with absolute certainty that there was a reason for my existence and that reason was Sydney. And maybe we were both born just for that kiss. When one of us goes... as one of us will eventually have to... the other will be able to cling to that kiss and say they had enough.

\---

There are defining moments in every life, ones that we never forget. And that kiss...

Wow.

I'm pretty sure all defining moments up until that kiss... well I may just have to redefine them.

"Hi..." I finally choke out with a smile.

"Hi." he answers back, clearly having just as much trouble clearing his head as I am.

"I think we should do that again." I finally make up my mind. Placing a hand on his chest I push him back with a determined look.

"You know, I think I agree." He spits out quickly and grabs my wrists pulling me too him and sealing our mouths again.

Demanding. Needing. Completing.

He hungrily attacks my lips and I attack back, ending up in the sand with him on top of me. Swollen lips leave my hungry mouth and travel down my neck, sucking and biting and licking, causing my flesh to flush, as his fuse-like fingers light fires all over.

My eyes close and gasps and murmurs escape my lips as he continues to assault my neck and jaw. The rough sand biting into my back, the smell of the ocean and Vaughn mingling in my nose. His moans and groans under my fingertips, the vibration of his pounding heart.

My senses quickly loosing track of anything but how he kisses me, how he rocks against me and begs with his body for more. As I quickly reach my breaking point.

"Excuse me."

Vaughn is too distracted by what he's doing and my reaction to it to notice the noise.

"Excuse me."

I push at him. "Vaughn." He pulls back, fire in his eyes, hunger in his expression. If I don't look just as needy as him I'll be surprised.

"Oui!" Vaughn demands roughly of the man dressed in a security guard uniform. I choke back a laugh.

"This area is private property. You two will have to leave." The guard offers in a heavily accented English.

Vaughn simply stares as it sinks in and this time I do giggle.

"Thank you. We'll leave." I turn my head and offer. The guard nods and walks off, not entirely trusting us.

"Merde!" Vaughn lets out as he flops on his back next to me. My giggles explode into full blown laughs. My swollen lips unable to hold back the euphoria he has set free in me.

He simply stares at me with that look of desire and a smile on his face as my laughs fade and my face settles, eyes locking with his.

"We could stop at a hotel..." I offer softly.

He smiles, then sits up and starts to gather our things.

"Don't tempt me."

Chapter Eleven

40 Miles from the Sun

_**"There is no where left to hide. There is nothing to be done, no people to be saved, no pets were never named, 40 miles from the sun. ...I need to lose to make it right. I'll confront the stars tonight. I will battle, I will fight. Never know how much you shine...40 miles from the sun...40 miles from the sun.... 40 miles from the sun...." 40 Miles from the Sun- Bush** _

When we got back into the convertible, Sydney sat next to me.

Her hand resting on my thigh, her head on my shoulder.

As if the last eleven years had been completely forgotten, as if we'd once again awaken in each others arms, only this time we'd done it right.

_"Where are you taking him!"_

_"You made a deal Sydney. We're finishing our part of the bargain" Her mother tossed Sydney's shirt at her daughter. "Get dressed, we have things to go over."_

_"I'll be fine Syd."_

The silent conversation we'd had with our eyes... well it was something words couldn't even begin to express. So many promises made.

Only, as it turned out later, to be broken.

But it was as if none of that mattered. The past eleven years hadn't happened.

And I knew that this truly was the only way things could have been. I think she knew it too as she cuddled close to me.

The rest of our trip was uneventful. We didn't stay at another hotel again. We drove until we reached her mother's place in Ecuador Switching places when one of us was too tired to keep driving. Switching cars, stopping to eat at little dinners.

Conversation was kept to a minimum, words weren't always needed we found. Speeding down a dirt road, her head resting against my shoulder, her hair blowing in the wind... words diminished the vision of happiness we'd painted for ourselves.

We had no guarantee that life would be better now. That somehow the pain of the past would all just diminish and blow away with the wind. No guarantee that the things we'd be forced to do in the future wouldn't cause us just as much anguish, if not more. I'm sure both of us realized that things would be hard, that she would continue to blame herself and I would continue to ache at the small but very significant fact that I couldn't protect her from this life. That I couldn't save her. That we were helpless.

And I suppose that was one of the reasons we limited our conversation to the moment. To the song playing on the radio, or the local we'd just passed.

When we spoke of nothing and she rested so close to me... We could pretend we were brave.

To be really brave however, not the cowards that we were... We would have gone north instead. We would have run the other way. Never given in.

Still, I will probably always wonder if that was truly bravery...or just foolishness. Fighting the inevitable or accepting the truth. We both have a need for truth. An ingrained integrity that we can't overlook. And even as we told ourselves we were just accepting the only path... I was sure she wrestled with the same feelings...that this wasn't the only way. It probably wasn't the right way.

It was the easiest.

The only way we could be together and scratch out some kind of life without fear of being discovered.

I'm certain she told herself it was selfless. That she was saving everyone she loved. But she knew it wasn't.

It was probably the most selfish thing we could have done.

And too many words would have exposed us.

Feelings ran close to the surface, with my arm wrapped around the woman I loved and scenes of tropical paradises complete with chatter of birds and moist scent. No one would have guess we what we were driving into. The break was needed. And we enjoyed every drop of it.

But just like all roads to destruction, littered with pleasures and momentary joys, they eventually end. And I know more than one person's road of destruction led to the manor on a tropical hill with pathways down to a private beach on the right and a helicopter landing pad to the left. Hell was deceptive. Cheery even.

Sydney pulled away as soon as I pulled up to the gates, which opened before I could stop the car. A green jeep this time.

"Vaughn. You can still leave. She'll let you." her words were quiet and uncertain. A soft test of my loyalty.

"I know," she nodded softly. Still not realizing that I was in this for good. "I'm not leaving you here, though."

Her eyes met mine briefly.

I knew then. I knew he wouldn't go anywhere. That he was willing to ruin his life to be with me. I didn't know what kind of twisted fairytale we'd stepped into. I only knew that he was supposed to leave and that he wasn't going to.

I wondered what I did to deserve it.

"She's going to want to see you alone. There are no guarantees here, Vaughn." She could very well kill him or kick him out anyway. She could do a lot of things that I would have no say in. His decision to stay might not come without a higher price than he realized.

He pulled the jeep to a stop before he answered. Taking my hands, he smiled into my eyes, "I know, Syd. I'm willing to risk it."

I took faith in the fact that she'd let us get so far. I'm certain she'd known of our whereabouts for quite some time. The fact that she hadn't stopped us, hadn't taken me back and sent Vaughn away earlier... it gave me something to hope for.

But when Vaughn was ushered into my mother's office twenty minutes later and I was ordered away, I wasn't so certain anymore. What would happen? And as the hours passed and I paced the halls of my mother's home, not knowing what kind of awful things they were doing to him, knowing my mother, it could be anything.

Anything and everything to get the truth out. Or what she would accept as truth.

I walked down to the beach, seeking solace from the crash of waves, the scent of sea, the taste of salt on my tongue, the heavy rain soaked air. Shedding my shoes, I stalked the shore restlessly. She was taking forever and even the familiarity and comfort the ocean offered diminished in the reality.

She could kill him and I knew it.

It was a good three hours before my mother came out... alone.

Smiling with that smile that always sent my heart to my stomach. She paused ten feet from where the water lapped at my feet, stealing the sand from around them, burying my toes with each passing wave. Her voice was calm, and purposely undistinguished. She wanted me to suffer a bit.

"Sydney, come eat something."

I knew that I didn't have a choice, one way or the other. Irina wouldn't tell me anything until she was ready and arguing with her would only cause problems. It didn't matter that I was choking on my anticipation. It didn't matter that I would only be able to push the food around my plate. I was still going to make the effort.

Even if my plate was full of broken glass and rusty nails, I think I'd try a bit of it if it meant Vaughn could stay. That his protection was guaranteed. Because suddenly having him close was imperative. I knew I could never do my job without him again.

Dinner was silence. I ate the nothing between us and pushed my salmon around on my plate. The silence mixed with my anticipation and I felt lightheaded as the nothing filled my lungs as well.

The dining room, like much of my mother's house, was overdone. A long dark table with crushed red velvet seats. Antique fixtures and a chandelier that held candles. French doors leading out to a meticulously kept garden. Complete with enormous fireplace and roaring fire, the room was vast, dark, and empty. Much like my mother's soul. You are what you eat...but in this case I guess it would be...you are where you eat.

Finally, when I could survive on nothing no longer, my mother rose from her spot and made an announcement.

"Micheal is almost finished with Henri. I see no reason why he can't stay with us for a little while at least. Now finish your vegetables." With that said, she walked out of the room and disappeared for the night.

I still wasn't hungry but I ate them anyway, then slid quietly down to my small, but vital place of escape, where I slid into a silky black, spaghetti strap, ankle length number.

The moon shining in all it's glory, I slipped beneath the white down comforter to wait for Vaughn.

I had no doubt whatsoever that she'd tell him where to find me.

\------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

"You look like your father, you know," Irina mused. Staring at me as I sat bound to a chair. I tried not to react to her comment. I knew she was just searching for a wound not yet completely sealed to pour salt into.

We'd been sitting here accomplishing nothing for a good two and a half hours.

I didn't plead my case and she didn't ask questions. I knew she probably knew more about me than I did. I would have no case to plead. I also knew that she needed me. Because Sydney needed me.

She'd lived without, this was true. But since I'd come back into her life... well, both of us knew that it wouldn't be nearly as easy to write me out of it as last time. And last time hadn't been easy at all.

"Despite what you believe... I had a hard time killing him." She smiled wistfully. "He was one of the best men I've been with." The corner of her mouth tipped up emphasizing her meaning.

"I'm sure he wouldn't say the same." I returned her look and she sighed. She had been sitting on a counter across from me but suddenly she rose from her spot and collected herself.

"We both know Sydney will be no good to me if I let you go. If I kill you she'll be even more trouble. It seems Micheal, that you and I are stuck with each other for a while yet." She stopped in front of me. "But don't think that I trust you. And don't think that Sydney's dependency makes you immune. I questioned the wisdom in letting you bring her back to me. But she needed it. Regardless... you will do as you are ordered or you will be exterminated."

I merely nodded.

She called for a man named Henri and when he entered I tried not to grimace. He was clearly hired to get answers... using any method.

"Don't leave any marks Henri, but get everything you can. Micheal here is going to join us and I want to make sure he's not hiding anything from us."

With that she left and Henri began.

I spent the next three hours betraying everything I'd worked to protect.

Three very long and painful but informing hours.

After which I spent the next four in a blissfully unconscious state.

I woke up to Henri's hands untying me and some muttered instructions on where to find Sydney.

I found her just as the sun began to rise over the ocean. I'd had my own idea's at what this place her mother had described to me would look like but I was in for a surprise

I'd imagined a structure, with walls, and a door. And technically it was a structure. But as for walls and doors...I was wrong in my assumption.

The beach was sloped down and nestled between three sand dunes was a platform that stood a good two feet off of the ground, made from local trees it stood with four pillars at the corners, pillars that supported the mud and grass roof. Primitive and rough. Native.

That however was where the local influence stopped. White gauzy curtains hung from the roof and blew gently in the morning breeze. Surrounding the platform and keeping the bugs out yet giving it an elegant contrast as well.

I slowly and quietly climbed up the three wooden plank steps and pushed the curtain aside so I could slip through. Inside of the structure was a king sized bed dressed in white with numerous pillows and a wrought iron frame. In the middle of the bed she slept fitfully.

I slipped my shoes off next to hers, my hand resting on her white terrycloth robe that hung on the pillar, slipped my shirt over my head and hung it on a hook sticking out from the opposite pillar, then walked to the foot of her bed and watched her sleep for awhile.

She was wearing a black silky nightgown, sleeveless but modest enough from what I could see of it. Her legs tangled in the sheets, her right hand resting near her face, her left arm extended to the empty space next to her. Curled slightly in the middle.

As she expelled a breath loudly, I slipped to her side noting the soft rug under my feet, also white. Slowly I peeled the sheets down and slid in next to her, carefully gathering her in my arms.

She smiled snuggling deeper into my embrace.

"I was worried." she murmured.

"Mmmm. Things are ok between us for now. She doesn't trust me though," I answered brushing the hair from her face gently.

"I wouldn't either if I were her. Give her time." She opened her eyes and smiled.

"This is quite the place you got here." I looked around the room again and she followed my eyes to the sunrise over the ocean.

"The ocean calms me. When my mother noticed that I'd slip out at night and sit on the beach until dawn she had this built so that I would have a place to go." I kissed her forehead.

"Doesn't give you much privacy does it?" I joked.

"Mmmm. Mom killed the last guard who tried to get close. This area is off limits to everyone except who I choose to let in."

"You're own private sanctuary."

"Exactly."

\----------------------------------------------------------

He looked tired and I could tell he was in pain. I knew what they'd done to him, 'mom' made sure I had the privilege of sitting in on a few of those torture sessions.

"Lay down." I ordered, pressing gently on his chest and he looked relieved to comply. He slid his arm around me and I nestled up next to him, laying on my side, held snugly against his side. I kissed his temple and let my fingers trace his cheek.

"Go to sleep," I whispered as he squeezed me and smiled, letting out a murmur of contentment

As I brushed at the permanent worry lines on his forehead, he slipped into a dream.

The sound of the waves played on my ears as I toyed with his hair and watched him breath.

Here we were.

Together.

The closest thing to peace I'd felt in years settled in that empty part of me as I too joined him in dreaming.

Chapter 12

_**"...When the lights go down and there's nothing left to be. When the lights go down and the truth is all you see. When you feel that hole inside your soul. And wonder what you're made of. Well we all find out. When the lights go down..." Faith Hill- When the Lights go down** _

His cold hand wakes me as it yanks my chin toward his face.

I'd forgotten about that aspect. Forgotten about him completely. I try not to smile at that thought. Let him believe his delusions

He doesn't speak, just stands there glaring, his hand biting into my jaw. Storms raging in his eyes.

"I don't want to talk about it now." I whisper with a smirk.

"Should I wake him up and tell him just what you are Sydney? I don't care if you don't want to talk about it..." He growled and grabbed my arm yanking me from the bed and to my feet roughly. I was grateful that Vaughn seemed to sleep through the exchange. I really didn't need these two killing each other.

"Fine. Let's go somewhere else though." I agreed as his grip on my arm became painful.

He his face twisted into a smile, clearly forced and sarcastic.

"What don't you want him to find you messing around with your boyfriend? Don't want him to know that you're mine? What do you think he'd do if he found out all the little nasty things you've done with me? Do you think he'd ever be able to look at you the same Sydney? I think I'd enjoy telling him just how much of a whore you are. He has a right to know." He managed to control himself enough to keep his tone light. I knew he was only being this way because he felt threatened.

Surely he had to know that I never cared for him.

Much.

"Grow up." I turned in his grip and started down to the beach, pulling him by his grip on my arm.

He pulled me to him roughly, his mouth crashing into my ear as he whispered.

"I missed you." he licked my cheek before he started to suck on my neck and fondle my breast with his free hand.

Pushing against him I freed myself.

"Cut it out Sark."

"Syd you're no fun like this." He growled before advancing again, determined to get what he thought he was owed. I tried backing away and ended up tripping over my feet and landing on my ass in the sand.

Some super spy I was, I couldn't even get away from my determined boyfriend...ex boyfriend.

Sark sneered. I found it hard to believe I'd ever found him appealing. He dropped to his knees, straddling my legs. I closed my eyes and waited for it to be over. I knew he wouldn't stop until he got what he wanted and at least at one time I had been willing to give him it. I just wished he'd hurry.

I didn't want Vaughn to find us.

Especially after all he'd just sacrificed.

After an eternity of nothing, I opened my eyes to see Sark's smirk again.

It was then I realized that I knew nothing about the man. It was oddly refreshing. With Vaughn I wanted to know everything. With Sark I didn't even care about his first name.

I laughed.

What was I afraid of? He really wasn't a threat to me. He was a one night stand dragged on way too long. Only a name.

He frowned and looked hurt. I didn't think I had that power. But then maybe that's why I laughed. Maybe I did know.

I could lie to myself. Tell myself that he was nothing but sex.

Memories would tell me that was a lie however. Sark could be tender when he wanted to be. And he wasn't as cold and calculating as I painted him.

My hesitancy must have shown because he laughed and pushed me down into the sand sealing his lips over mine. Sucking my resolve from my lips. It was easier not to fight him and suddenly he seemed impossible to escape.

It was foolish of me to think that now that Vaughn was here things would be different. Vaughn could do nothing about Sark. He could do nothing about my mother. They still owned me, body and soul. Damn stupid of me to think that Vaughn's warm body, sleeping next to me, would keep away the nightmare of my life.

Struggling with the inevitable only wasted energy and I had little of that to start with.

When Sark finished molesting my mouth he pulled back just enough to read my sour expression.

"I'm not in the mood for this." I answered shortly. Angry that I didn't have nearly as much control as I'd thought. Frustrated that nothing would change.

"I haven't seen you in two weeks Sydney. Just because you've got a new toy doesn't mean you can act like your some saint. He's not going to change anything. In fact I bet he runs when he finds out he can't change you. His ideals will only make you miserable." He tried again, impatience lacing his speech.

"Go fuck yourself if you're so damn needy." I bit out and tried to roll out from under him. Hands, strong as steel, fastened around my wrists. That would bruise. Grimacing I slammed my eyes shut and waited for him to hurt me. When he lost his temper he hit. It wasn't as bad as some of the men I'd been with but it still stung.

"Get off her!" The weight of Sark's body was quickly removed. My eyes opened in time to see Vaughn pull Sark all the way to his feet and shove him away from me.

*************

I never should have made her choose. This life has ruined her... I thought that with Jack's blood running through her she'd be stronger then I was. Truthfully it was my weakness more then anything else that kept her where she was. We needed Michael Vaughn.

I knew he was the only person who could make her care about herself again. They deserved a second chance.

It was the more foolish side of me that let him stay. The weaker part of me that couldn't stand to look in the mirror. The part that hated what I'd become. That hated what I'd done to Jack and now to Sydney as well.

I thought she'd understand.

People like us... we had no control over our lives until we took control. It didn't matter which government prostituted you out. They all did. I thought she'd understand that it wasn't about wealth, we were not another alliance, there were no Arvin Sloanes among us.

But she only saw the down side. She only saw the necessary means.

I only wanted to give her the freedom to choose. She was not ready for the responsibility and weight that freedom carried. But now that he was here, the one man she couldn't have, now that he was at her fingertips... maybe she would finally understand.

Jack and I had no second chance. If I could give my daughter a better life... a way out of this job. I would.

It just took time. Information didn't gather itself. Power needed to be taken, it was never handed out. Our group.... we just wanted to ensure that our children would never be subject to what we went through.

Peering through the curtains I caught movement down on the beach. Sydney struggled to escape the grasp of Cuvee's son. I anticipated this obstacle, he was supposed to check in first however. Like his father he always had to do things his way. Unlike his father however he didn't seem to care one bit for the goal we worked so hard to achieve. Mr. Sark was in it for the power and prestige.

But he was still young and perhaps time would change him. Pushing away from the window I started down toward the beach to remind Sark who was in charge.

Yes, he was like his father... Perhaps that would be his downfall after all. Cuvee was easily swayed, and for years I have suspected his loyalty to the group. His faith wavered with his wallet. And he seemed a little to preoccupied with the acquiring assets to be truly interested in the cause.

I reached the beach just as Vaughn pulled Mr. Sark off of my daughter.

"Who do you think you are!" Sark demanded, shoving Michael roughly aside.

"Mr. Sark. I believe you and I have some things to discuss." I put in, gaining the groups attention.

***********

My head spun toward that voice. Her words still rang in my head.

And I was forever grateful that Sydney was nothing like her mother. Her cold tone could frighten grown men. It was no wonder Jack was so afraid of the woman. Her presence demanded power, it required respect. When Irina Derevko wanted something you gave it to her.

Sark headed off toward the house.

"Good morning." Irina smiled then tailed Mr. Sark.

I turned to look at Sydney who was still sitting in the sand, offing her my hand I cut off her protests after only a few words.

"Vaughn it isn't what it..."

"Not now."

Honestly, it looked like Sark was trying to take something she didn't want to give him. But that she would give him anyway. Her lack of fight disturbed me, more then the fact that Sark seemed to think he had some kind of right to her body. Though the idea of his hands on her flesh made me want to kill.

I pulled her thin frame toward me and hugged her to my side.

Mr. Sark could forget about touching her, even if it meant I had to be with her twenty four hours a day--which wasn't looking too bad to me.

***********

Michael Vaughn was too passionate about his work.

His work was his weakness, the one place that if struck, would make his world fall apart.

When Sydney joined her mother we thought that Agent Vaughn would never fly straight again. In a way he never recovered. Instead his work consumed his life.

And because he let it.... now she consumed him.

Irina Derevko... How many lost CIA agents would the woman consume?

I questioned Devlin's intelligence once more as I sifted through the files on Agent Vaughn's desk. How he could justify sending me to reclaim my daughter and her infatuated lover, I could not understand.

I questioned his motives even more then I questioned his intelligence

Devlin was no stranger to my feelings on Irina. Even I will admit that my judgments can not be trusted when it comes to her. Yet Devlin was adamant.... more then adamant... and I can not continue to sit back and watch that Russian bitch kill my daughter.

Five years ago I was still hunting everywhere for Sydney... But as we got closer... Irina became more real and I found myself stepping back like a fool and a coward.

In the time we spent together, Irina was right about one thing...

I was a fool.

Which is why Devlin should not let me go.

Chapter 13

Everybody cries when something feels...

_**...Everybody wants and everybody needs. Everybody begs for self esteem. Why don't you get your mind out of the past? And everybody takes and everybody steals. Everybody's been kicked by other heels... ~Everybody-Stabilo Boss** _

I sent Sark away again that afternoon. Things were bad enough without him there. Sydney and Vaughn left two days later on a deep cover mission in Spain. They were looking for more documents, more texts and manuscripts by Rambaldi. Sometimes I wonder why I am so hell bent on it.

It's been a week since Agent Vaughn joined us. And so far he has kept his word. I'm not surprised.

Sighing I push the curtains over the balcony doors apart and step out into the cool morning air. My room looks out toward the mountains, toward the beginning of the day. I find my stability in those mountains. I suppose it's much like Sydney and her ocean.

The wrought iron railing is cold under my hands, I grip it tighter and throw my head back in the early morning twilight. Eyes closed, trying to justify life, trying to forget about the dream that woke me. The wind blows gently through my long hair, wrapping the silken nightgown around my calves, it's edges fluttering in the wind like a banner.

The ring is heavy on a chain around my neck.

Jack.

I wonder where he is now.

I don't wear my ring often, I only pulled it out of my drawer this morning because of the dream. The one where we were happy, where he made love to me and held me close. Where we watched the sun rise together from my balcony. I don't think about him often. Only on mornings like this, when Sydney is gone and I am alone.

When I'd started the organization, life was still full of thrills. But now... I can't even go into town without fear of being discovered. It's ironic really. The whole purpose of gaining power was to have the freedom to do what I liked. What was best for my daughter. And now I'm a prisoner in my own home and my daughter is falling apart.

How did things become so twisted?

On mornings like these I wish I'd never heard the name Rambaldi.

Opening my eyes once more, I studied the mountain before me. Deciding that I would get lost in it's terrain for a few days, I turned back to my room to dress.

****

She was in Ecuador. I never saw that one.

And as I stopped at a small market a few miles from her headquarters to get something to eat, I contemplated the logic of marching right in and demanding my daughter back.

I'd rather Sydney stay here if truth be told. When she comes back with me, she'll just land in a locked room with no freedom and a list of crimes a mile long. I didn't want her mother to have control over her, but I didn't know if I had the strength to lead my daughter to what might be her death.

I pressed some coins into the dirty little hand that had offered me some local dish that tasted oddly sweet. Finding myself a rock I spooned the mixture into my mouth with two fingers. I didn't realize how hungry I'd been until the half coconut shell was empty. Thanking them in Spanish, I handed the coconut bowl back to the smiling old woman and started down the road again.

****

"Do you think he was lying?" I asked, turning on my side to face Vaughn, letting my hand run over his chest as he wrapped his arm around my waist.

"I don't know. We've only been here a few days though Syd. You've got to give this contact time." He nuzzled my cheek and I smiled. Maybe tonight we'd actually get farther than foreplay.

"Why do you think she sent us out? She could have sent anyone," I asked, cupping his cheek and letting my thumb play with his lower lip.

Frowning, he pulled away and the bed squeaked as he climbed out of it and stood in front of the window. His dark outline cast a shadow on the opposite wall.

"I don't know Sydney. Maybe she wants to test my loyalty."

Bad move Syd. I should have known better than to bring up mom. He always goes away when we talk about her. Plus I know he's not happy with the idea that he's working for the bad guys.

"Michael..."I sigh and slip out of bed, bare feet padding on hardwood as I slip behind him and wrap my arms around him. "Let's forget it. Come to bed." I kiss his neck and he turns in my arms to cup my face.

"We can't always keep putting it off you know."

"I know." I give him a coy smile. "But by the time we get to that you'll be so addicted to me that it won't matter." I tease.

"Oh really." he almost growls as he pushes me softly back toward the bed. My knees hit the mattress and I pull him with me as I fall backwards.

****

Wiping the sweat from my brow I push myself harder. If I'm going to reach the summit before nightfall, I'll have to push myself to the limit. My age is catching up with me. Slowly. I push the thought away as I pause and remove my water bottle from the pocket on my pack.

Panting, I let myself lean against a tree before gulping down some water. Glad for the shade.

There is something rewarding in this feeling of exhaustion, of sweat and grime. My muscles screaming my throat parched. Skin crawling. It had been too long since I'd spent some time alone in the mountains.

Starting out again, I hack at the weeds in my way with my machete. Swing. Swing. Swing.

It's easy not to think about anything but the next step, the foliage that falls under my blade. The dirt that stains my hands, then face as I wipe and swat at bugs and sweat.

Harder.

Faster.

More.

Each trip has to be more trying then the last. I don't know what I'm trying to prove. That I'm not getting soft? That I'm still the tough Russian bitch?

I wonder how Sydney is doing.

I miss the thorn ridden vine and it scratches my cheek before I get rid of it.

Gripping the vine in my hand, I can feel the thorns puncture my palm, a thin trickle of blood spreads through the cracks and folds of my skin.

Yes I am still that unbreakable bitch.

*****

She had done well for herself. I had to give her that.

I stood in front of the large and overly impressive gates. It wasn't really her. I don't know where the thought came from, but I couldn't see her enjoying the show of her home.

But what would I know about her anyway?

Stealing myself, I paused and gathered any strength I could come up with. I was going to need it.

"You! Stop! This is private property!" A guard called out in heavily accented English as I placed my hand on the gate to open it.

Suddenly I was surrounded by them.

And so the nightmare continues.

I couldn't wait until this was over.

Chapter 14

Whispers

_**  
  
I hear the sound of the ticking of clocks  
Who remembers your face  
Who remembers you when you are gone  
  
I hear the sound of the ticking of clocks  
Come back and look for me, look for me  
When I am lost  
  
Just a whisper, a whisper, a whisper, a whisper  
Just a whisper, a whisper, a whisper, a whisper  
** _

_**Coldplay-A Whisper** _

The iron bands were rusted. I remember that well. They bit into my skin and left orange streaks on my wrists and ankles, that branded me more visibly then any of the methods they had resorted to. They cut, and chaffed, and bled on me, and I on them as well.

The months after I'd left Jack and Sydney were not months I liked to remember.

But sometimes I had no choice.

_"Aw Ms. Derevko. Why must we play these games? Tell me why you decided to defect. What about the American scum, makes this worth it."_

_I'd given up trying to prove my innocence of his claims long ago. Hours and days before I'd started believing them instead. Believing that I deserved the harsh hands and vulgar words and innuendo._

_"Speak!"_

_Silence. Cold and empty, choked my words back. I didn't deserve to speak and to do so would result in more pain, more blood, more moments of lost time. Suspended from the ceiling with iron bands around my wrists and ankles, immobilizing me while they shot arcs of electricity through me, my beaten and bruise body, unclothed and cold, convulsing in front of them as they leered and scorned._

_But that pesky voice in the back of my head... Sydney wouldn't understand why giving in was so important. She usually had the ability to get Jack on her side as well._

_"Fuck off!" It was liquid fire shooting through my veins, lighting my internal organs as it passed over them and consuming every fiber that stood in it's way. Then it was dark again and I was lost in my own head._

_They urged me on there. Sydney and Jack often visited in in those moments. In those lost moments when giving up would be so easy. Jack would cradle me to his chest and Sydney would wrap her tiny arms around my knees. They didn't care that I'd betrayed them there._

_And then the blissful black was interrupted by calloused hands groping and pushing. Demanding Russian voices. I'd slip from Jack's arms and Sydney would let go as I opened my eyes to the nightmare again._

_"I'll tell you nothing. Cowards! Filthy pigs!" I would wake with a vengeance that I'm sure only came from Jack's fierce protests of love, when I'd draw away from him. When we'd fight. The, "Damn it Laura I love you!" and the way he used to press me up against the wall ending the arguments with a passion that he couldn't contain._

_"You are a disgrace." Cuvee would chuckle. "Look at you Irina. You're filthy and you smell like swine. If you'd just answer the questions then this could stop. You could have a nice warm bath and some clothing. Treatment for your wounds and a warm bed."_

_I refused to speak in my native tongue. While my guards, my interrogators, Cuvee, they all spoke in Russian. I would not let that language cross my tongue again. It felt too much like a betrayal._

_It wasn't until they recalled me that I truly grasped what exactly the KGB was. How it didn't matter what I'd done for them. In the end I was and would always be a traitor to my country._

_They never did tell me what had convinced them I had betrayed them._

_Never did answer any of my questions of why._

_When I didn't answer him, Cuvee had the guards leave the room._

_I hated when the guards left the room more then I hated the electricity shooting through my veins._

_Cuvee motioned for one of the guards to leave his rifle behind and I cringed._

My eyes shot open before my mind could relive that memory and I shivered in the cold morning air. I pulled my sleeping bag closer around me as I laid in the predawn shivering and listening to the world around me. Trying to banish those memories.

Unable to get warm, I moved closer to the fire and played in the embers with a stick. The glow of it's flames reflecting in my wet eyes. One hand running up and down my arm. Quivering lip clenched between teeth held by a shaking jaw.

Squatting by that fire I decided to pack up early and start out again. Movement kept the ghosts at bay.

I wondered if I'd ever be strong enough to stop running from them.

***************

I had to give her credit. Her goons knew how to cause pain.

Upon my arrival I'd been thrown into a room in the basement of her home. Her thugs had come in repeatedly and tried to beat the answers out of me. I never did respond well to that kind of punishment.

Why was I here?

God, if I knew the answer to that I'd gladly share that information with them.

Who was I?

Well, besides a fool? Really, just ask your boss. She knows.

Apparently my humor didn't amuse them. I was beginning to wonder if Irina even knew I was here. If this was even Irina's place.

It would be three brutal days before I'd find out.

****************

Three days in the mountains did just what they were supposed to do. Wear me out so entirely that I could get a good nights sleep.

I stumbled into my room after a vague nod in the direction of a few of my men, just so they'd know I was back. They wouldn't bother me until I'd sent for them, which meant I'd have as much time as I'd like.

Closing my door behind me, I started shedding my clothing on my way to the bathroom. I'd take a nice hot bath, turn on some Tchaikovsky and relax.

It wasn't until the bathroom was steamy and I'd slipped under the bubbles that I let myself scream. My voice lost in the water that surrounded my head. I contemplated letting the water in my mouth, sucking it into my lungs, and choking on it as it's warm tendrils held me in their embrace. A warm and deadly cocoon.

Breaking the smooth surface I sucked in air instead.

Sydney is much too much like me. We both love to punish ourselves. Whereas she takes after Jack in her more obvious forms of punishment, I like to beat myself into exhaustion, choke myself on self doubt and blame. It's easier, I don't need props like a bottle or a blade.

"Irina darling, really must you always disappear just when you're needed." His harsh voice grated on my last nerve, but somehow I managed to keep from jumping out of the tub and strangling his last breath from him.

"Cuvee." I purred and lifted myself from the bath. He handed me my robe while leering at my lithe form. "What is it that needs my personal attention? You weren't supposed to be by until next week." I'd been dreading the visit for a month now. Someone should have informed me he was here already. Someone would be in big trouble when I'd gotten him to leave.

"Nothing too earth shattering. I just missed us." he breathed and yanked me closer to him. If I didn't need the man's money I swear I'd have killed him. I will yet. I promise myself.

When his mind is on sex there is nothing I can do to stop him.

Now this is the point where I hate myself even more for letting other people do this to my daughter. And I swear when they are done with Sydney they are done with women. I've done the best I can. Slept with the more vile, let them hurt me how they want to hurt her. I've tried my best. But I'm older then I'd like to be and some answers won't slip from their tongues with me.

It's only then that Sydney gets them. Only when no one else will do. Only after I've tried. Only after I've failed. What kind of mother would I be if I didn't try to keep her from it? Even when I know there is no other way. Every scratch on her is accounted for. And they pay dearly for every mark.

Cuvee, thankfully, has never wanted Sydney. Only me.

When he is done pumping into me, when he's done groping and spewing lewd words and phrases, he passes out. Like always. I fall into an uneasy slumber myself.

_"I could pull the trigger now and the part of you I love would still be intact for my use."_

_I'm strapped to the table with leather bands this time. No iron for this. I'm grateful for that at least. My arms are above my head. Cuvee twists the barrel of the rifle pushes it a little harder._

_"Why don't you just fuck me and get it over with?"_

_"Because this.." push, twist, tear, "is more fun."_

_His finger plays over the trigger. I wish he'd pull it._

_"Pull it!" I scream in Russian as tears flow from my eyes. I know Jack would be frowning. Disappointed that I gave it all up. But I'll show him that I don't mean it._

_"Welcome back Irina." He removes the rifle and unzips his pants. Now I'm fit for him. Now he can fuck me all he wants, I'm not longer that Americanized slut._

_Just his Russian whore._

I wake up in a cold sweat and Cuvee is dressing in the corner.

"Honestly Irina, how am I supposed to get any sleep with you thrashing around." I will kill him, I will rip him apart with my teeth. Bastard. Filthy slimy bastard.

"I'm sorry."

He nods and leaves.

Jack wouldn't have left.

Oh God how I miss that man.

Chapter 15

Dancing on the Wind

_**I saw a bird** _

_**It was free and graceful on the wind** _

_**How I long to be a bird.... Bird---M.L.M.** _

Sleep was out of the question. I had known this for some time. But fooling myself seemed to be a nice distraction. Unfortunately Cuvee ruined that illusion for me.

With sleep out of the picture I could no longer justify sitting around and being useless. I was not nave enough to believe that nothing had happened in the three days that I had taken for myself. Power shifts as quickly as death can claim a soul. Fortunes switch hands even faster then death's last breath. In three days the entire underground could have been reorganized just as many times.

Life on the other side of the fence is never as glamorous as it appears. And unfortunately, a career in information does not provide much time for vacation. You can't be ahead of the game if you are lying out in the sun in Puerto Rica. Most successful organizations are lead by more then one person for exactly that reason. You can't have much fun if you are constantly on the watch for new information. The whole, two heads are better then one philosophy really is a bunch of crap. With two heads, one is easy to sway, the other is easy to fool, and before you know it they tear themselves apart.

Never put your trust in anyone. Everyone has a price and most prices would surprise you.

Besides, when you're wanted every where you go, vacationing is a bitch anyway. I've never needed a partner. I trust a few people to watch over things for a few days, they can always contact me if something big comes up. But I would never go as far as to give half of my control away.

Control and money are synonymous with power. That's the only triad I'm willing to be acquainted with.

Stripping the sheets from the bed, I toyed with the idea of taking another shower. I felt beyond dirty. In fact I'd felt cleaner covered in honest sweat and mountain grime. The fresh mountain air braided in my messy and tangled hair. The sound of the forested mountains still fresh in my ears.

I called for Henri on the phone by my bed then covered myself in the robe that Cuvee had removed from me earlier. Deciding to hear what Henri had to report before slipping under the scalding drops to sanitize myself.

**********

Rough hands gripped my biceps and pulled me from my dreams and to my feet.

He didn't look too happy. Which made me wonder if I should be happy. I mean generally what is bad for the bad guys is good for the good guys. The way he was jerking me around however did anything but bring a smile to my face.

The room he pushed me into was sparsely furnished. A bed. A night table A dresser. A desk and chair and not much else. All the furniture a deep mahogany, matching mission style. The bed was stripped, a pile of sheets in cotton earth tones lay in a heap on the ground next to it. The walls lay naked excluding a few simple prints by some unknown artist.

As the door behind me closed I looked across the room to the french doors, thin shear curtains of ivory covered the multi-paned doors. Walking across the room and opening one of the doors, the cold morning air blasted my skin as the early morning dew sparkled in the new sun. I'd wondered what time of day it was. The room in the basement had no windows and Hulk hadn't been to keen on the idea of letting me catch my breath, let alone stop and smell the roses, on the way up.

Closing the door I let my eyes drift to the open door about twenty paces to my right, steam drifted out and the sweet smell of the soap she preferred assaulted my nose. I wondered if she had aged well.

The thought caught me off guard. I hadn't thought of the woman in years. Well I hadn't thought of the woman in any other way then with extreme distaste, for years.

Aggravatingly enough, I found myself anxious to see her again. Hating the little game she was playing by setting up such an inviting situation. I wouldn't have put it past her to exit the bathroom in nothing but a smile and that lust filled look she'd perfected long ago.

Part of me wanted her to walk out of that room in nothing but the little droplets of water that hung in the air. A small and almost steady stream of water dripping down her back, the curve of her ass, slipping down the soft expanse of her thigh and disappearing between her legs just before her knee. Down, down, down. Her lower leg, covered in goosebumps as the water dripped to her ankle, exploring every crevice as it glided the rest of the way to the ground.

Her mouth parted as she flipped that piece of hair behind her ear. One hand splayed over her naked navel. The other hand, fingers tangled in hair. An almost inaudible sigh, more like a puff of air. Her tongue would come out and lick her lips as she studied what the years had done to me.

There I let the fantasy end. I think however, I carried it out a little too long.

**Author's Note:**

> I have recently been informed that this story is still online at sd-1.net but despite all my efforts I don't have access to it. If you do, you can find the ending in its unedited glory there. If you have access and want to help a girl out, you can dm me via twitter @0phoebsfan0 or find me at ff.net or tumblr.


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